Gone
by Smile because it happened
Summary: Soda's death in Vietnam changes the lives of the remaining Curtis brothers in ways they'd never even thought possible. But is Soda really gone for good? Warning: Strong language and alcohol abuse.
1. Prologue

For the first time in six months I'd missed work. My boss had phoned around 11 o'clock and I'd said I was sick, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the real reason for my absence. Saying it out loud would make it real and I wasn't ready for reality just yet. I took a big swallow of beer and felt a burning sensation in the back of my throat. I'd wanted something stronger, woken up craving it and the blissful numbness it would provide, but beer was the only alcohol we had. It wasn't working as quickly as I'd hoped, I was on my sixth (or was it seventh?) bottle and I could still feel the waves of sadness and despair coursing through my body.

The letter sat on the coffee table in front of me where it had remained since Saturday morning. It was crumpled and disfigured from where Pony had clutched it in his first and I knew if I were to smooth it out and read it the words would be smudged from his tears. I hated that damn letter with every fibre of my being, more than I'd ever hated anything or anyone. That flimsy piece of paper bought our whole world crashing down around us and I don't think I've got the strength to build it up again.

Somehow this feels worse than when mom and dad died. Maybe because we've lost so much already it's like rubbing salt in an open wound. Or maybe I know things are different this time, I know that I can't cope anymore. No matter how hard I try to keep my family together they keep getting yanked away from me. I drain the bottle and reach for another.

XXX

"Hey Darry." I sit up straight in my chair and gape at the person who's just walked through my front door.

"What. . . what the hell are you doing back here?!" I stammer, my head swimming and my vision slightly blurry. I squint my eyes and stare until I'm sure it's him. I'd recognise my brother anywhere and he looks exactly the same as he did before he left - even his hair is the same. I always thought they made you keep it short in the army but I guess he managed to charm his way outta having it cut.

"I just got out of school." He replied, kicking his shoes off so they bounced against the wall. Soda always did hate shoes.

"Haha, very funny smart guy!" He'd dropped out of school ages ago, I remember having a massive argument with him about it. "Seriously though, did you only get back just now?"

"Yeh, just this second." He grinned that killer smile of his and I realised with a prang how much I'd missed it.

"I can't believe your back! Come over here and give your big brother a hug!" I staggered to my feet and held my arms. He smiled again, shaking his head like he couldn't understand why I wanted to hug him, even after he'd been gone all this time. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, squeezing him just to make sure he was really there. Funny, he felt smaller than I remembered, shorter and skinnier, his muscles less developed and defined. Guess haven't been feeding him enough out in 'Nam."I've missed you so much Pepsi-cola."

He suddenly goes stiff in my arms and tries to pull back.. That's not like Soda, Pony's the one who usually pulls away when I try and hug him. . . oh my god, Pony, I'd forgotten all about him!

"Pony's gonna be so jazzed to see you Soda, ah man the kid's gonna go crazy! He'll be back in from school any minute now. He's missed you something awful Sodapop, things just haven't been right since you left. Me and him, we just can't manage without you Soda, we need you. . . but it doesn't matter anymore because you're back! You'll never guess what they told us Soda, they sent us a letting saying you'd died! Can you believe it. . . I thought we'd have to bury you!"

Soda makes a strange noise, like a strangled sob, but I've already pulled him back against my chest so it's muffled by my shirt. I guess it's all a bit much for him, being back here with us after being away for so long. Soda always said he was the bawl baby of this family. I absentmindedly stroke the back of Soda's hair as I stare at the clock trying to work out how long it'll be until Pony gets home. For some reason the clock hands won't stay still long enough for me to read it.

"Shhh, it's alright Soda. You're home now, everything's going to be alright." Suddenly Soda began to shake his head, butting it against my chest so hard I had to let him go. He stumbled away from me, still shaking his head manically.

"Darry no! It's not alright, nothing is ever gonna be alright ever again!"

"What are you talking about Soda? You're getting yourself all worked up, lets just sit down and wait for Ponyboy to get home then we can sort everything out ok? Just calm down for a minute!"

"What are you talking about Darry?! You're not making sense, you . . ." He trailed off, his eyes finding the mess of empty beer bottles surrounding the couch. "You've been drinking." He stated flatly. "You're drunk."

Suddenly I felt ashamed. I'd promised him when he'd left that I'd cope, that I'd look after Ponyboy and make sure life carried on without him. But I'd failed and I'd let him down.

"It's been hard Soda. . . you weren't here, you can't understand. Sitting opposite your empty seat every night at dinner, finding your stupid baseball cards stuffed down the side of the couch, having girls coming up to me and asking why you haven't called them yet. And Ponyboy, he cries himself to sleep every night. He's changed Soda, something's died deep down inside him and I don't know how to bring it back to life." I could feel tears pricking at my eyes so I welcomed the sudden eruption of white hot rage that burst out of me. "You left me Sodapop! We were a team and you left me here while you charged off to war to play hero! How do you think that felt Sodapop, how did that make me feel?!"

"It wasn't like that Darry, you know it wasn't." His voice was pleading now, begging me to believe him. I knew I was being mean and unreasonable, but I couldn't seem to stop. "I had to go, I got that letter remember? I had to go."

"Bull, you and Steve had been talking about joining the army ever since this damn war started! Don't lie to me Sodapop Curtis, don't you dare lie to me after all you've put us through!"

He was shaking his head now, sadly this time. "I'm sorry Darry, I'm really sorry. I've got to go now, I think it's for the best. I'll just leave right now and we can forget this whole thing ever happened. . . "

"NO!" The loudness of my voice surprised even me. Soda jumped like he'd been shot. "You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here with me, I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again. I can't lose you a second time Soda. . . I just can't." I grabbed his forearm and pulled him back towards me. "Not again."

"Darry please, please I have to go now. Please it's important, I need to go and get someone. I'll go and get someone to help you and then I'll come back ok? I promise I'll be back."

"I don't need anyone Soda, I just need you to stay here with me. That's all I've ever needed, you and Pony here with me. Now we're going to stay here and wait on Pony and then. . . "

"Darry stop it! You don't know what you're talking about, I'm here already! I'm not Soda Darry, can't you see!"

"What are you talking about? Of course you're Soda, I'm standing right here looking at you. You have to be Soda, you have to be. . . " I squeezed his arm harder as panic gripped me.

"Darry stop, you're hurting me! I'm not him Darry, I'm not Soda!" Soda began to struggle, clawing at my hand while trying to pull himself free. I started to drag him back towards me and he began to flail wildly, twisting and bucking to break free of my grip. He was crying properly now, babbling hysterically.

"Stop it!" I roared at the top of my voice and before I knew what was happening I'd raised my head and backhanded him hard around the face. Everything froze suddenly, only our hard breathing broke through the silence. "Oh my God, Soda I'm sorry . . . so sorry."

He turned his head around slowly to face me and somehow he wasn't Soda anymore. His hair began to change from blonde to auburn, his eyes from brown to green. He was shrinking as well, his frame becoming smaller and slimmer right before my eyes.

"Ponyboy?" I breathed. He stared up at me with wide fearful eyes and slowly nodded his head. I sat down heavily on the couch and put my head in my hands. "But you. . . he. . . he was here. It was Soda, I saw him. He spoke to me. Where . . . how . . . "

Tears were starting to run down my face and I couldn't stop them. My head was swimming and I felt slightly nauseous. What the hell was going on? I'd never felt so confused in my life. "He was here!" I turned to Pony, silently begging him to tell me he'd seen Soda too.

He stared at me for a long moment before drawing a deep breath and taking a cautious step forward. Tears were running unchecked down his face and his left cheek had flushed bright red but his voice was soft and calm when he spoke. "Soda's dead Darry. He got shot in Vietnam. We got the letter on Saturday and they're flying his body over on Thursday. Soda's gone Darry, and he's not coming back."

I sat back against the couch and covered my face with my hands. I tried to force the sobs down, holding my breath to stop them escaping. My body started to shudder and shake. I felt the couch dip down beside me and knew without looking that Pony had sat down. I sucked in a deep breath and began to count to ten in my head, just like the social worker had told me to. By the time I'd reached ten the sobs had died down but the tears were still falling. I felt Pony grab my hand, his long, delicate figures linking up with mine. I knew he was waiting for me to squeeze back, to reassure him that everything was ok, that I was ok, but I couldn't make myself move.

"Darry?" He whispered, his voice thick with tears. I forced myself to ignore how young and scared he sounded, just like I'd ignored his hand. It was the only way I could stop myself from falling apart completely. "I'm sorry Darry."

I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to give him something, anything, to let him know that I'd heard him. I wanted to, more than anything else in the world, but I couldn't. He stood up and I was aware of him walking down the hall although I didn't move my eyes away from the opposite wall. I hoped he'd gone to his room to curl up under the covers and cry himself to sleep. At least then he wouldn't have to see me like this, so lost and hopeless and out of control.

A few seconds later I felt him sit back down beside me. He lent over and stuck his face right in front of mine, so close that I couldn't help but look at him. As my eyes focused in on his face I realised he was wearing Soda's DX hat.

"Look Darry, look I'm Soda." His voice quivered as he placed one cool hand on the side of my face. "Everything's gonna be ok now. I'm gonna make chocolate cake for breakfast and help you with the bills and me and you can look after Ponyboy together ok? Everything's alright now, I'm home. I've come home."

His words trailed off to a desperate whisper but I could do nothing but stare blankly back at him. With a stifled sob he wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling himself into my lap. He pressed his cheek against mine, his warm salty tears mingling with mine until I couldn't tell where mine began and his ended. As his fingers dug desperately into the back of my neck I lent my head back and closed my eyes. Maybe I could pretend he was Soda, just for tonight . . .


	2. Chapter 2

Soda's funeral wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I didn't cry at all during the service, I just stood quietly holding onto Darry's hand in silent support. Darry cried, but it didn't scare me as much as it used to. He'd been crying on and off since the day he'd mistaken me for Soda so by the time the funeral rolled round I was starting to get used to it. My biggest fear was that he'd be drunk or hung over but I'd made sure I'd hidden all the beer under my bed the day before. I'd checked just before we'd left and it was all still there so I knew Darry's tears were proper tears of sadness, not just alcohol tears.

I felt strangely detached as I listened to the vicar describe how brave Soda was, how he'd died a hero, how much he was loved and how much he'll be missed. I kept having to remind myself that they were talking about my brother, not just some other faceless soldier to return from Vietnam in a body bag. Darry's hand was cold and shaking and I can't help but remember the last funeral we attended where Darry had been the one keeping me a float instead of the other way around.

As Soda's coffin is lowered into the ground I let the tears slide down my face. Darry is too lost in his own grief to notice but Two-Bit looks relieved that I'm finally showing some emotion. I feel guilty that the tears aren't tears of sadness that everyone expects, instead they're tears of confusion and frustration. Somewhere deep down inside me I still don't believe that Soda is dead. This is going to sound crazy, it even sounds crazy inside my own head, but I don't believe he's dead because I never felt him die. Ever since I was a little boy, perhaps even when I was a baby, I've felt these vibes from Soda, feelings of protection and warmth and love. I expect it's one of the reasons me and Soda have always been so close, closer than brothers usually are. As I stand there watching them lower his coffin those vibes are as strong as they've ever been. The logical part of my brain tells me that I'm deluding myself, but until those vibes are gone, I know I won't accept that he's dead.

After the funeral Darry drags me straight over to the truck and tells me to get in. I turn back to the graveyard, watching as the mourners turn around and look for me and Darry, expecting to shake our hands and tell us how sorry they are. As much I don't want to, I know we should be standing there to accept their sympathies and thank them for coming.

"Darry I think we should. . . " I begin but he cuts me off.

"Get in the truck. . . NOW!" His shout causes people to turn in our direction and I quickly scramble into the truck to avoid causing a scene. I'm about to shut my door when Two-Bit appears, breathing heavily from running over.

"Where are you guys going?" He asks, looking uncomfortable and awkward in his slightly too tight suit. "Mom says you can come back to our house if you like, she's gonna cook some chicken and beans and she said she's gonna turn the potatoes green in Soda's honour!" Two-Bit's grin looks funny paired with red eyes but I smile back anyway, not sure what to say. Darry tenses beside me when Two-Bit says Soda's name and I can feel him getting mad.

"No thank you," he says tersely, his voice sounding overly-polite and strained. "We're just gonna go home." Two-Bit's smile falters and I feel a blush begin to creep up my neck.

"Come on Darry, she just wants to fuss over you both for a while. Y'know, feed ya up a bit and. . ."

"I said no thanks Two-Bit!" Darry reaches over me and slams the door shut, narrowly missing crushing my fingers. Two-Bit gapes at us through the window as Darry turns on the engine and I try to smile reassuringly despite the growing unease in my stomach. He stumbles back as the truck pulls away and I watch his confused face get smaller and smaller in the wing mirror until we swing out onto the road. Suddenly I feel mad.

"He was only trying to help!" I snap, feeling confused and unnerved by Darry's sudden change in mood. Not fifteen minutes ago he was crying into my hair as we watched hard chunks of earth bounce off the top of Soda's coffin.

"Just shut up Ponyboy ok? I don't need this from you now so just shut up!" The harshness in his voice shocks me and I subconsciously move away from him, turning to gaze out the window.

We drive straight past the turn-off for our street but I don't ask where we're going. Ten minutes later we pull up in front of a grocery store. Darry turns off the engine and jumps out. He leans back in and fixes me with stern look. "You move from this truck and I'll smack your backside." He states before slamming the door shut and walking into the store.

I stare after him gobsmacked. My first thought is _like hell you will! _But then I remember how he slapped me last week and the fight leaves me in an instant. I don't like this new Darry, he's scary and unpredictable and I don't know where he came from. It was easier when Darry just sat quietly, staring at nothing, although if you'd told me last week that I'd be thinking that I woulda laughed in your face.

I look around the parking lot to distract myself. We hardly ever come to this grocery store as there's one just a couple of blocks away from us that sells the best chocolate cake mix in the whole state so we usually go there. Leaves are starting to fall off the trees and I realise that winter's coming. I'm trying to figure out whether or not my winter coat will still fit me when Darry comes back. I watch apprehensively as he climbs in, balancing a paper bag carefully to make sure he doesn't drop it. He turns his head and looks at me for a moment while I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Here." He says eventually, reaching into the bag and producing a candy bar. He throws it at me and it lands in my lap. I state at it for a moment before deciding that it's Darry's way of saying sorry. I smile up at him.

"Tha. . ." I start but Darry isn't looking at me. He's twisted around in his seat, trying to place the bag on the floor as quietly and as carefully as possible. I startle him when I speak and a loud clinking noise comes from the bag as he jerks slightly. Darry stiffens and quickly drops the bag. When he turns back around he can't meet my eyes and I realise that the candy bar wasn't meant as a peace offering, it was meant to distract me and keep me quiet while he hid his booze. We drive home in silence.

I pretend to go straight to my room when we get home but instead I stand in the shadows of the hallway and watch Darry in the kitchen. He places the paper bag on the counter with such care that it makes my blood boil, then reaches inside and pulls out a bottle of vodka. He looks around to make sure he's alone then bends down and hides it in the cupboard under the sink where we keep all the cleaning stuff.

I stare in disbelief and quickly stager to the couch before my legs give out. I put my head in my hands and wonder how my big brother managed to become an alcoholic in a week and a half. I looked up to see Darry walking out of the kitchen, a second bottle of vodka cradled against his chest. He stopped short when he saw me sitting there. "What?" He snapped defensively, but I saw his cheeks colour before I looked away. I heard the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut moments later. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the candy bar he'd given me. I stared at it for a moment before jumping up and hurling it across the room.

* * *

Well my one-shot has kinda turned itself into a multi-chapter fic, so I think I should just mention a few small facts about this story:

1) This takes place after Dally and Johnny died

2) I've altered Pony's age slightly (He's around 13 in this fic)

3) Steve is still in Vietnam

4) Logan Parker wrote an amazing story (I fully recommend you check it out) that may seem similar to this one but (if everything goes to plan) this is going in a completely different direction to hers so I hope that's not a problem.


	3. Chapter 3

I spent the remainder of the afternoon slumped on the couch, staring into space. I kept thinking I should go and check on Darry, but then I'd remember that I was mad at him and sink further back into the cushions. By six thirty the sun had begun to go down and my stomach had started to rumble. I heaved myself up from the couch and ambled into the kitchen, clicking on lights as I went. I tried to undo my tie one-handedly like my dad used to do but Darry had tied the knot too tightly and I couldn't work my fingers in far enough to undo it. Giving up with it I yanked open the refrigerator and peered hopefully inside. It was scarily empty.

After searching through all our cupboards and finding them just as bare as the refrigerator, I sat down at the table to try and figure out what to do next. I tried to remember the last time one of us had been grocery shopping. Not counting our trip to the store this afternoon, neither me or Darry had set foot in a grocery store since we'd got the letter about Soda. In fact, neither of us had done very much at all since then. I'd been to school, welcoming the sense of normality and distraction it provided, but other than that neither me or Darry had even left the house. We hadn't done any cleaning, or paid any bills. . . I looked closely at the kitchen light, suddenly feeling panicky. The electric company wouldn't just shut off the power would they? They had to give us some sort of warning, right? Like those red envelopes Darry used to get so mad about, they hadn't sent us any of those yet. At least I didn't think they had. . . I hadn't checked the mail in at least a week. I stared around the kitchen with a sudden feeling of dread, like everything was pressing down on me at once. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be Darry. I remained seated at the table, undecided for a few moments, before setting off down the hall to find Darry. Drunk or not, he always knew what to do.

Staring at my brother lying face down on his bed I feel an overwhelming sense of hopelessness wash over me. I stick my leg out and cautiously poke the mattress with my foot, making it wobble slightly. Darry groans loudly but doesn't move.

"Darry? Darry?" He groans again, shifting slightly. "Darry I'm hungry. And there's no food." I stand still for a few moments, waiting for a response. When it doesn't come I edge forward towards his bed. I know Darry always keeps his wallet in his back pocket and I hope fervently that his routine hasn't changed simply because he's wearing dress pants. I reach into his pocket and pull out his wallet, silently thanking God for my brother's predictability. Peering eagerly inside I grab a handful of change and slip out three bills before sliding the wallet back into his pocket. As I leave Darry's room and set off for the store I can't help but feel slightly guilty about taking Darry's money. When I get there I make sure to only buy food I know Darry likes to make up for it.

"Oooh don't you look smart?!" Mrs Briggs smiles at me from behind the cash register as I load up the shopping. "You been somewhere nice today?"

"Yeah, we went to church. My brother always makes sure we dress up nice for church." At least that wasn't a complete lie. I liked Mrs Briggs just fine but she asked a lot of questions. My mom used to say "Mrs Briggs will know all your deepest darkest secrets before you even know them yourself." I keep this in mind as she chatters away as Soda dying in 'Nam and Darry laying at home, drunk off his ass are deep dark secrets that I definitely want to keep to myself.

"He's a saint that brother of yours, the way he kept you boys together after your mama and daddy passed away. Deserves a medal if you ask me, it's not easy bringing up a couple'a growing boys, I should know. You're a good boy for him though aren't you Ponyboy? Helping out with the shopping like you are. You make sure you tell him hello from me ok?" I nod, not really listening, instead watching Mrs Briggs place eleven of the thirteen dollars I took from Darry's wallet into the register. I start to question whether or not I should've bought that extra pint of milk. "You not buying any chocolate cake mix today?"

"No. We're trying to cut down on chocolate stuff, apparently it's bad for you or something." Mrs Briggs laughs at my joke and I smile for the first time in twenty-four hours. Truth is I stared at the chocolate cake box for a full five minutes, wanting to put it in the basket so bad it almost hurt, but it was between that and a bag of potatoes. For once I used my head and bought the spuds, too bad Darry wasn't around to see it.

"You take care of yourself Ponyboy!" Mrs Briggs calls as I stagger awkwardly out of the store, not used to carrying two bags of groceries by myself. "Don't forget to tell your brother hello!" I resist the urge to roll my eyes only because I think she undercharged me by seventy-five cents.

The house feels eerily silent when I get back and I rush into the kitchen and start cooking straight away just to fill the emptiness. I burn the chicken and the mashed potato has lumps in it, but I still feel proud as I plate everything up. I set the two plates down on the table carefully, making sure to avert my eyes from Soda's empty seat. Cooking dinner has relaxed me somewhat and the house smells warm and cosy - like it used to. This is the happiest I've felt in a long time.

"Dinner is served!" I announce to the empty kitchen before trouping off to round up Darry. I pause outside his door and brace myself before entering, feeling slightly more prepared than last time. He's sprawled out in exactly the same position he was in earlier, snoring loudly. At least I know he's still alive.

"Hey Darry, I made dinner. You wanna come and eat?" He doesn't even stir. I lean over and shake his shoulder, my good mood making me brave. "Come on Darry, you gotta eat something. I cooked the chicken with onions just the way you like it. Come on Darry, please."

"G'way!" Darry calls out, his voice muffled by the pillows. He buries his head deeper into them, like he's trying to get away from me. "Leave me be."

"But I cooked it for you!" I shake his shoulder again, harder this time. "Darry plese, just come and sit at the table if you don't wanna eat anything. Just come and sit with me!"

"G'way!" He yells, raising his left arm and swinging it blindly backwards. He catches me on the shoulder and I stumble back. "I'm tryna sleep!"

I rub my shoulder angrily. "Ow! That hurt you big jerk!" I storm out if his room, making sure to slam the door behind me. He groans as the bang echoes through the house and I smile to myself.

I march into the kitchen and throw myself into my chair, my good mood long gone.

I force myself to eat some dinner, refusing to let my hardwork go to waste. I savagely scrape the onions away from my chicken; I don't even like them, I'd only cooked them for Darry. Sitting at the table all by myself I try not to think about the times when my parents and the gang were still here and my mom had had to find extra chairs to fit everyone around the table. Staring at all the empty places, I feel more lonely than I've ever felt in my life.

After I've finished I clear away my plate and wipe down the surfaces more out of habit than necessity. I leave Darry's plate on the table, just in case he changes his mind and gets hungry later on. I put the groceries away and wonder whether or not it's cold enough to put the heating on. I almost shout out to Darry but I catch myself just in time. In the end I decide it's probably better to leave it off and save some money. I eventually flop down in front of the tv, at a loss of what to do with myself. I flick through the channels but it's too late for any of the shows I usually watch and I most of the channels are showing reports on Vietnam. If it weren't for the fact that the war took Soda I wouldn't have a blind bit of interest in it. I don't even know what we're fighting for.

At half past ten I go to bed because there's nothing else to do. I strip off my suit jacket and dress pants, bundling them into the back of my wardrobe instead of hanging them up like Darry would want, just to spite him. I fall asleep almost immediately but my dreams are plagued by dark, steamy jungles and bloodied soldiers who all look like Sodapop. I wake up gasping for breath, feeling cold and lost in mine and Soda's double bed. You'd think that after four months without him I'd be used to it but I'm not.

Out of desperation I make my way to Darry's room for a third time, trying to convince myself that I'm not looking for comfort, I'm just checking that he's not dead or anything. Darry's laying on his side, a half-empty bottle of vodka clutched to his chest when I silently slip into his room.

"Darry I had a nightmare." I whisper, edging closer to the bed. "It's too hot for Soda in the jungle. He doesn't like it. And he was bleeding." When Darry doesn't say anything, doesn't even acknowledge my presence, I have to blink really hard to stop myself from crying. Instead I reach out and grab onto the vodka bottle, trying to pull it out of his grasp. Darry holds onto it with surprising strength considering he's passed out but I eventually manage to wrestle it from him. I fight the urge to hurl the bottle across the room, instead placing it on Darry's beside table. There's a gap in Darry's arms from where the bottle was and I quickly wriggle into it before Darry realises the bottle's gone. Even though Darry smells funny, his chest is comfortingly hard and warm against my back and I gradually feel myself relax. Just before I drift off to sleep I catch sight of the vodka bottle. I stick my tongue out at it and wriggle protectively closer to Darry. _I win this round! _I think proudly before finally allowing my eyes to close.


	4. Chapter 4

A shrill ringing pierces through the first peaceful nights sleep I've had since Soda left for 'Nam and I immediately jerk awake. At first I think it's the alarm clock and grope around blindly for it, stubbornly refusing to open my eyes and face the day. Then I remember that Darry doesn't set his alarm clock anymore and the events of yesterday slowly trickle back to me. Groaning, I roll over onto my back and stretch, turning my head in search of Darry. He had shifted away from me in the night and was sprawled out on his back in the centre of the bed, his mouth hanging open comically.

I'm about to laugh when he starts to move, screwing his face up and turning his head towards the pillows as if trying to block out the noise. I leap up and rush into the kitchen, grabbing the telephone off the hook before it wakes Darry up completely. I want him to stay asleep for as long as possible while I try and figure out how to handle things.

"Hello?" A man's voice comes from the receiver while I hold my breath for a moment, listening for any sounds of Darry stirring. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

I consider hanging up on him, but then he might ring back and Darry probably wouldn't sleep through a second time. I put the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Jesus Christ, it's about time! Didn't anyone ever teach you how to answer the phone?! You're supposed to say something ya idiot, not just stand there breathin'!" The man sounds irritated, but the tone fits his voice well. I imagine he sounds irritated a lot of the time.

"Sorry mister, I got distracted by something outside, but it's ok, it's gone now. This is the Curtis residence, how can I help you?" I put on my politest tone of voice to pacify him, just in case he's someone official or something.

"Yeah, well ok, just don't let it happen again ya'hear. Gets real confusing for the person on the other end of the line."

"Yes Sir, it won't happen again." I feel like I'm talking to my school principal. I try to imagine what my principal's voice sounds like, just to be sure that I'm not, but I can't seem to remember. It doesn't really matter anyway, everyone knows it's the principal's secretary that holds the real power in our school. I realise the guy has been talking to me while I've been thinking all this and I tune back just in time to catch the end of his sentence.

". . .now is Darry Curtis there?" _Damn. _

"Uh. . .yes sir, but he's sleeping right now. Can I take a message?" Yeah he's sleeping alright, sleeping off one hellova hangover I'll bet.

"Are you his kid brother?"

"Yes Sir."

"Ah. . .well kid, I really regret havin' to have this conversation with you and I'm really sorry for your loss, but I need you to tell your brother - you listening kid? 'Coz I'm only gonna say this once - you tell your brother that if he don't get his ass to work in the next fifteen minutes then he's fired." To his credit, the guy does sound sincerely apologetic, but his voice has an edge to it that lets me know he's completely serious. I don't even try and work out how he found out about Soda, I knew Darry hadn't told anyone except our closest friends and I certainly hadn't gone around running my mouth off.

"Fired?" I stammer, hardly able to get my head around this new and potentially crippling development. "What do you mean fired? You can't fire him. . .please mister, he just needs a little time to recover. If you could just…"

"I know kid, ok, I know. And like I said, I'm sorry for your family's loss and I'm sorry that you're the one who has deal with all this, but you gotta understand, I'm running a business here and your brother hasn't shown up in over a week. I just can't afford to keep him on. Ya understand that?"

"Yeah I understand, it's just. . ." I turn my body away from the doorway and hunch over the phone, lowering my voice just in case Darry's awake and listening. "He needs this job mister, I mean really needs it. If you fire him…if you fire him I don't know what we're gonna do." The truth behind that statement hits me hard and I clutch the phone tightly in panic, holding it so tightly against my ear that it starts to hurt.

The man clears his throat awkwardly and I can tell he feels bad. "I'm sorry kid, but there's nothing I can do. It's not my decision…I'll send you his last cheque in the mail ok? Make sure to pass on the message." Then he's gone and the dial tone is ringing in my ear.

"Shit." I whisper, bringing my head forward to rest against the wall. I stand like that for a minute, desperately clutching the phone and fighting the urge to cry. Eventually my ear starts to burn and I hang up. Glancing up at the kitchen clock I see Darry has exactly eleven minutes to get to work. It takes at least twenty minutes to drive there so I figure Darry's already lost his job. I don't have the strength to deal with the implications of this, so instead I grab a bottle of aspirin out the cupboard. I tip the tablets straight into my mouth, feeling five on my tongue before I crunch them between my teeth. The sharp chemical taste makes me wince but also wakes me up slightly. I fill up a glass with water and take the aspirin bottle into Darry's room, hoping medication can solve at least one of our problems.

"Darry? Darry? You awake?" I ask, even though it's obvious he's not. Darry groans and slowly begins opens his eyes.

"Fuck me have I got a headache." He moans, raising a hand to rub at his face. Opening his eyes properly, he catches sight of me kneeling beside his bed and looks startled. "Er. . .I mean. . ." He clears his throat awkwardly. "Don't you go repeatin' that word Ponyboy, it's not a. . .uh. . .nice thing to say."

I stare at him, not sure what to say. Normally, I wouldn't even think about it. I would've laughed at him, told him that Steve had taught me that word when I was six and that I'd figured out what it meant by the time I was eight and teased him about sounding like old Mrs Cruft from next door. But now, with everything so completely abnormal, I have to think carefully about how to react. He sounds so much like the old Darry, the one who cooked me dinner every night, packed my lunch, nagged me about my homework and who I miss more than I ever thought possible, that I don't want to ruin it.

"It's ok Darry, I ain't gonna go round saying it all the time just 'coz you said it once!" I blurt out eventually, making some lame attempt at humour. Luckily Darry smiles.

"No I guess your not." He says thoughtfully, reaching out a hand and touching the side of my face, like he's seeing me properly for the first time in a while. I wonder if I look as tired as I feel. I lean into his hand, ignoring the roughness of his fingertips. I don't even care, I'm prepared to take any type of comfort I can get at the moment. "I remember when you were real little, no more than two or three years old, and you heard Dally say shit. You went round saying it every chance you could for weeks afterwards. It was the only time I ever saw mom get mad a Dallas." Darry smiles as he tells the story but his eyes turn sad when it ends and he drops his hand from my face. I miss it's presence already.

I try to think of something to say to keep Darry talking, to keep remembering the good times, even if it's about dumb stuff I did as a baby. But the moment's gone and Old Darry has morphed back into New Darry, who doesn't want to remember anything at all. I reach for the bottle of aspirin.

"I think you might be sick Darry." I tell him as I tip out two tablets. "What with your headache and all."

"Yeah," Darry agrees, throwing the tablets into his mouth and taking the glass of water I hand him. He drinks it down thirstily. "Yeah, I do feel a bit sick." I reach over and grab hold of the trashcan, just in case Darry means proper sick, not just headachy sick. I've only been drunk once in my whole life (and never to the extent Darry was last night) so I can't really imagine how he's feeling, although I have distinct memories of Soda throwing up in the bathroom after a party once.

While I'm trying to subtly position the trashcan, Darry turns to place the empty glass on his bedside table. He freezes suddenly and I look up to see what's wrong, following his gaze to the bottle of vodka. His eyes widen slightly as he stares at it and I realise he must be staring to remember everything that happened yesterday. He reaches out and carefully turns the bottle around so the label is facing the wall and hidden from sight.

He catches my eye and a look passes between us, a look that tells Darry I know the truth and that tells me Darry realises I know the truth. Then I look away and busy myself with screwing the lid back on the aspirin to show him that I'm happy to play along and pretend everything's normal. I hear him lean back against his pillows and he looks relieved when I finally look back up. Guess playing pretend is easier than facing reality.

"Think you could call work for me and tell them I won't be in today?" He asks, smoothing down his covers. I don't think he's realised he's still wearing his best suit.

"I already did." I tell him, ignoring the cruel irony of his question and getting up from my position on the floor.

"Thanks kiddo." His eyes are starting to close and he sounds drowsy. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

I remain by Darry's bed for a moment, watching him drift off to sleep. I rehearse his words over and over until I've got them memorised, ready to bring out when times get tough. Once I'm sure I won't forget them any time soon I go to my room and get dressed.

The magnitude of what I'm about to do doesn't hit me until the driver hands me my ticket. I'm going to get Darry his job back. I catch the bus and ride across town, enjoying looking at the window at people going about their everyday lives. For a while a wonder why everyone on the sidewalk is either under five or over sixty but then I realise that today's a school day. I feel slightly guilty that I'm not there, me and Nick had arranged to work on our science project together at lunch. Hopefully he'll think I'm sick.

It takes me a while to find the construction sight once I get off the bus, Darry had only pointed it out to me once as we drove past. Eventually I find it, "Smith and Steven's Construction" the sign proudly proclaims, and walk up to a big white trailer stationed near the entrance. I wonder faintly if the guy I spoke to on the phone this morning is Smith or Stephen.

I stand in front of the trailer feeling lost. The decision to come here had been a spur of the moment type thing and I hadn't actually thought about what I was gonna do once I found the place. Then I hear his voice, the same irritated voice I head on the phone this morning. I follow the sound until I find him. He's smaller than I expected, but strong looking, like a bull. I wait until he's finished his (extremely one-sided) conversation with a bricklayer before clearing my throat.

"Excuse me Sir?"

"Who the hell are you?" He demands, looking around me as if he expects someone else to answer the question.

"I'm Ponyboy Curtis Sir."

His face clouds over when he hears my name. "Curtis huh? Well ain't that a coincidence. . ."

I decide to get straight to the point. "I'm here to ask you to give my brother his job back." I say, sounding much braver than I feel. The guy smirks.

"Oh you are, are ya? Well I can tell ya now, your wasting your time kid. We already replaced him. Got a new guy starting first thing tomorrow."

"But. . .you can't just replace him. He's worked for you for months. That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair kid, gotta learn to suck it up. And there was a whole line of people just waitin' to take your brother's job, ain't nothing special about being a roofer son, I can tell you that now."

"But Darry's a good worker! You gotta give him a chance!" My voice is rising along with my blood pressure. The man looks around self-consciously and grabs hold if my arm, pulling me closer to the trailer and away from prying eyes.

"Give him a chance! I gave him ten goddamn chances! He hasn't shown up for work in eight days now and I didn't even get a phone call or nothing! Had to find out about your other brother through the grapevine like some mug. Now I liked your brother just fine, and your right, he was a good worker. But I'm living in the here and now kid and right now your brother ain't here. Ya understand what I'm saying?"

"But I'm here!" I cry desperately, really grasping at straws now. "And I'm asking. . .I'm begging you mister, just give him his job back. I'll make sure his here tomorrow, I promise." The man laughs then and I don't know whether to cry or hit him.

"Yeah well we ain't in the sandbox anymore kid, your scout's honour don't mean much around here. Look, I appreciate you coming down here like this and I'm sure your brother does too, but there's nothing you can do. The decision's been made, that's it, it's over. Ain't nothing no one can do for your brother now." I open my mouth to try pleading some more but the guy shakes his head, and I give up.

"Fuck." I mutter, slumping back against trailer. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" That reminds me of the conversation I had with Darry this morning and I feel even worse, like I've let him down twice.

The guy watches me carefully, not sure if I'm having a breakdown or not. "You need anything kid?" He asks suspiciously. I stare at him and try and make myself hate him, or at least feel a little bit angry. I mean, this is my whole life he's just helped screw up. But deep down I know it's not his fault. My dad worked as a contractor for a little while so I understand about the pressures of the job. The guy's probably gotta family of his own, two little girls and a wife who rely on him to take care of them. I sigh and ask him for the only thing I can think of.

"You got a cigarette mister?"

He smirks and shakes his head in disbelief but fishes one out of his pocket anyway. I take it eagerly and break it half, deciding to smoke half now and save the rest. He strikes a match and I lean forward so he can light it for me. I suck smoke into my lungs and hold it for as long as possible before breathing out. "Feel better?" The man asks and I nod my head. "Good. Now get the hell off my building site!"

Once I'm back out on the street I realise I've got no where to go. It's too late for me to turn up at school without a note and I can't face going home. I finish my cigarette and start to walk aimlessly. A few minutes later it starts to drizzle, that horrible light rain that manages to soak you right through. I hunch my shoulders and jam my hands into my pockets, hating the whole world.

I end up at the Drive In. I sneak under the fence and make my way to the concessions stand, fingering the two dollars change left over from yesterday's shopping. The whole place is practically deserted so for once there's no queue. I stand there for a minute, trying to decide between a Pepsi or a box of popcorn. The Pepsi wins out (a kid's gotta feed his addiction y'know) and I give my order to the girl at the counter. She pours out the Pepsi and rings it up, then goes and stands by the popcorn machine.

"Salted or sweet?" She calls over her shoulder. I look around to make sure she's not talking to someone else but I'm the only person at the counter.

"Uh. . .I didn't order popcorn." I tell her, even though the smell of it is making my stomach rumble.

"I know," She says simply then turns to look at me. "Salted or sweet?"

I hesitate for a moment longer before deciding to just go with it. "Sweet." She nods and fills up the box.

"You know I can't pay for it right?" I ask as she carries it back to the counter.

"Yeah, but you look like you need it." She replies, taking the money I held out. That's when I realise just how desperate I must look.

"Thanks." I say quietly as she hands me my change. I smile at her before turning away and wonder if she realises that her tiny act of kindness has just made my day. Probably not.

I've seen the movie three times before but I feel better by the end of it. My stomach's stopped growling and I've dried off considerably. It's stopped raining by the time I step outside and I start to think that maybe things are starting to look up. I allow my mind to wonder on the way home, thinking about a science project me and my friend Nick are gonna work on for the science fair and the way this girl in my Spanish class sometimes smiles at me when no one else is looking.

I check my watch before I walk in the door and realise it's only three-thirty, still a little early for me to be back from school. Then I remember that Darry will most likely be sleeping off his hangover or working on giving himself another one so just walk right in. My eyes immediately fall on Darry sitting on the couch.

"Hey Darry. How're you feeling?" I ask as I kick my shoes off, making sure to keep my voice neutral until I figure out what kinda mood he's in. When he doesn't answer I look up and start to make my way over to him. "Darry? You feeling ok?"

He turns to look at me and our eyes meet. Except Darry's eyes don't look like they usually do, they're bloodshot and slightly swollen. "Darry?" I whisper, suddenly feeling scared. "What wrong?"

He gets slowly to his feet, his gaze still locked on mine. He looks livid, eyes wild and nostrils flaring. I begin to subconsciously back away. He lunges for me, grabbing me by the front of my t-shirt before I even realise he's moved. I let out a shout of surprise. He twists my t-shirt up in his fists and lifts me up so only the tips of my toes are touching the floor. "Where the _fuck _is my money?!" He screams in my face.

* * *

_Wow, that was a long chapter (for me anyway!) Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Has anybody got any requests of charcters they'd like me to include (meaning canon characters) or situations they'd like to see? There's some Two-Bit coming up in the next couple of chapters and I'm thinking of adding Tim Shepard into the mix soon but anything/anyone else? Let me know in a review. _


	5. Chapter 5

At first I am too shocked to respond. _Money? What money? _Darry starts shaking me, making my head jerk backwards and forwards sickeningly. "Huh Ponyboy? Where the fuck is my money?!"

I start to shake my head, readying myself to tell him that I've no idea what he's talking about, when it suddenly dawns on me. He means the money I took from his wallet after the funeral, the thirteen dollars I spent on groceries and a Pepsi. This realisation must have shown on my face because Darry stopped shaking me suddenly and stared. I quickly schooled my face into what I hoped was a neutral expression but Darry had already latched onto that moment of weakness.

"You took it didn't you? You little thief - you stole my money!" Darry's words sting, even though I tell myself he doesn't really mean them.

"I needed it Darry! That's why I took it, I needed it!" I figure there's no point in denying that I took it, but perhaps if Darry understands why, he won't be so angry.

"You needed it?!" Darry's tone is harsh and scathing, like he's mocking me. I feel my stomach twist painfully. "What the hell would you need thirteen dollars for? You're twelve years old for God's sake! What did you spend it on? Taking your dumb little friends to some stupid movie? I needed that money Ponyboy, really needed it, way more than you did!"

The fact that Darry can't even remember my age is the final straw and I allow my fear and confusion to become eclipsed by anger. "No you didn't! You woulda spent it on beer or vodka or some other stupid alcohol. I spent that money on food for us, so don't you dare tell me you needed it more!"

My voice has risen to a shout and I'm breathing hard by the end of my speech. Darry looks shocked for a moment and I start to think that maybe he's beginning to understand, when he suddenly jerks his hand back and slaps me in the face. I burst into tears as my left cheek erupts with pain.

We remain like that for a long moment, Darry clutching my t-shirt tightly while I bawl my eyes out at the unfairness of it all. Then I feel Darry's grip loosen and his hands begin to rub up and down my arms. My dad used to do the same thing to calm us down when we were younger. I want to pull away from Darry, who's just yelled at me and hit me and called me a thief, but his hands feel steady and comforting against my arms and I can't make myself do it.

"Shit. Ponyboy don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry, come on now, everything's ok. I'm sorry I hit you, I'm not mad anymore. Don't cry Pone." Darry kneels down in front of me, still rubbing my arms as I sniff and try unsuccessfully to quit crying. Darry peers up into my face and if everything wasn't so messed up I'd laugh, because it feels like we've switched roles. I'm usually the one looking up at Darry worriedly, searching for a way to make it all better.

"It's not fair!" I sob, thinking of how hard I've been trying these last few days, how I've lied for Darry, how I've cooked him dinner and given him aspirin and skipped school to try to get him his job back.

"I know it's not fair and I know it's hard," Darry consoles me, even though he has not idea what I'm talking about. He doesn't seem to notice all the things I've been doing for him and this realisation just makes me cry harder. "But I need you to calm down and look at me Ponyboy, can you do that?" I nod my head and force myself to meet his gaze, tears still running down my face.

"Ok, good boy." Darry breathes as he takes my face in his hands to stop me from looking away. They feel heavy and chilled against my warm cheeks. "Now I need you to help me out ok? I need you to think really really hard about where I can get some alcohol."

I gape at him, completely floored by his request. I'm standing there, face stinging from a slap I didn't deserve, sobbing my heart out because for the past ten days I've done _everything _for him and he hasn't even said thank you, and all he can think about is how to get more booze. I want to shout and scream and punch and kick until this horrible, scary New Darry has gone from our lives forever. But I can't, because every so often I'll catch glimpses of the Old Darry, and I know that he's is still there somewhere, hidden. Instead I take a deep breath and blink rapidly to try and clear my head, feeling self-conscious as my tears dribble over Darry's hands.

Darry is watching me closely and can see me processing his request, trying to figure out the best thing to do. He rubs his thumb over my cheekbone and goes in for the kill.

"Pony look." He shows me his left hand, holding it palm-down in front of me. I can see it shaking violently. "You see that? See how I'm shaking? All I need is a little bit of beer, just a little bit, and I'll be ok again. Like medicine Pone. I need some alcohol to make me better. You wanna help me get better don't you?" I nod my head, feeling trapped by his reasoning. I realise dimly that I'm being blackmailed but I feel too exhausted to fight it. "Then help me get some beer."

"Under my bed." I whisper after a minute, hating myself for being so weak. "There's some under there."

Darry's hands grip my arms tightly in excitement. "You sure?" He asks, but he's already risen to his feet, poised to run. I nod my head.

"I hid it there before the funeral to stop. . ." I trail off because Darry's already sprinting down the hall towards my room. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself, then tug up my t-shirt and wipe my face with it. My cheek is stinging painfully but I'm distracted by the familiar clanking sound of bottles banging together. Darry emerges for my room moments later, smiling at me and brandishing three plastic bags. Darry places the bags in front of the couch and grabs a bottle, yanking the top off with his teeth. He tips his head back and drinks deeply, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.

When he's had enough he places the bottle on the coffee table and swipes a hand across his mouth, grinning at me. "See, I'm all better now." He tells me, showing me his hands which are no longer shaking. "Thanks to you Pony."

I remember how he used to give me the same proud smile when I used to bring home good grades and it makes my heart hurt. I feel my eyes starting to well up again. I smile weakly back at him, hoping he won't notice how my eyes are brimming with tears.

"Hey crybaby, come on." He chides softly, holding his arm out and inviting me over. I slip underneath it and he presses me against his side, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. A few stray tears slide down my cheeks. I can't help wondering whether or not I'd be getting this cuddle if I hadn't been able to tell him where to find the beer. "No more tears eh? It's ok, I'm all better now. You helped me get better Pone. Come on now, there's nothing to be upset about." I take a deep breath and quit crying, not wanting to push my luck. I smile up at him to show him I'm ok now. He reaches over and clumsily tries to wipe away my tears. "There now, that's better. You're ok now, everything's ok." I find myself almost believing him.

A hesitant knock on the door cuts through quiet that has descended over the room and both Darry and I freeze. No one ever knocks on our door except the State. "Who is it?" Darry calls out, clutching me tightly against him. His eyes, like mine, are locked on the bags of beer on the floor.

"It's Two-Bit." Two-Bit's voice calls back and we both let out an audiable sigh of relief. Darry takes his hand away from my shoulder and places it over his heart, like he's trying to slow it down.

"Come on in then ya moron!" Darry yells and Two-Bit appears in the doorway, grinning sheepishly. "Nearly gave us both a heart attack! Since when do ya knock on our door, ya bum? We thought you were the State or something!"

Two-Bit's grin grows wider at Darry's relaxed tone. I realise that we haven't seen or spoken to Two-Bit since Soda's funeral when Darry had yelled at him and nearly ran him over. Guess he's been keeping a low profile for a while. "Ah well, ya know. . ." He trails off, looking embarrassed. "I just thought. . .thing's might've. . .I dunno. . . ya know."

I glance up at Darry and realise that he hadn't been able to make any more sense out of Two-Bit's explanation than I had. Darry saves Two-Bit any further embarrassment by fishing a beer out of one of the bags. "You wanna beer Two-Bit?"

"Yeah sure." Two-Bit starts to reach for the beer, then notices me standing there for the first time. I quickly duck my head but I know that Two-Bit has already seen my puffy eyes and the handprint on my cheek and put two and two together. I watch him through my bangs as he turns from me to Darry. "I'm not interrupting anything here am I?" He asks uncertainly.

"No not at all." Darry replies easily, taking another swig of his own beer. Two-Bit's mouth drops open as he watches him. Darry raises an eyebrow and regards Two-Bit coolly, silent asking what the problem is. Two-Bit clears his throat and glances at me again.

"You sure that's alright Darry? You know, drinking with the kid around and all." I feel slightly sorry for Two-Bit, who must be feeling like he's entered the twilight zone right about now. Up until today, Two-Bit's probably never seen Darry touch a drop of beer in his life and Darry used to be real funny about allowing people to drink in the house, especially if I was around.

"Yeah everything's fine. Ponyboy was just heading for his room anyway, weren't you kiddo?" I snap my head up when I hear my name, scrunching my eyebrows in confusion. _I was? _Darry points at me, his tone taking on that firm, no nonsense tone I remember so well. "You stay in your bedroom until I tell you you can come out ok? I want you to think about what you've done and how you're going to make it up to me. I won't tolerate stealing in this house Ponyboy, I hope you understand that now."

My hand unconsciously drifts to my cheek. I can feel myself starting to blush and I have to work hard to stop my eyes from welling up again. I shoot one last look towards Two-Bit, who's staring back at me curiously, before turning on my heel and starting off down the hall.

"Here." I hear Darry say and figure that he's handed Two-Bit the beer.

"What was all that about?" Two-Bit asks, followed by the sound of a bottle being opened.

"Kid took some money from my wallet and went to the movies with some friends from school. No big deal really, just…well y'know, can't have the kid turning into some sorta pickpocket now can I?!" I force myself to keep walking.

"No I guess not." Two-Bit says thoughtfully as I reach for the door handle. "Doesn't seem like him though. . ."

I close my door and lean back against it, allowing myself to slip to the ground. I curl up into a ball and put my hands over my ears to block out their voices. In desperation I focus all my thoughts and energy on Sodapop, straining to feel those vibes of warmth and love that let me know he's still alive. For one sickening second I feel nothing but coldness but then they wash over me and I sigh in relief. I rest my chin on my knees and let Soda's presence calm me down. _I miss you so much_, I tell him in my head. _I miss you so much it hurts. _

* * *

_Eugh, that was a horrible chapter! Sorry about that. Things will pick up again in chapter 6 (I hope!)._


	6. Chapter 6

By eleven o'clock I was desperate for a pee and, having not heard any noises from the living room in some time, deemed it safe enough to dash to the bathroom. I brush my teeth while I'm in there and figure I'd better check on Two-Bit and Darry once I'm done as, much as their sudden silence is a welcome break from the drunken laughter I've been hearing all evening, it's also slightly unnerving.

I stick my head into the living room and see Two-Bit sprawled ungracefully across the couch, one leg hanging haphazardly off the cushions. Darry is asleep in the recliner, head thrown back, empty beer bottle dangly loosely from his left hand. I watch them for a minute, feeling a mixture of disgust and pity, before retrieving two blankets from the linen closet. I clumsily drape them over first Two-Bit, who groans but doesn't wake, then Darry before quietly making my way into the kitchen.

Despite the fact that I only went shopping yesterday, the cupboards still look depressingly bare. I search around for something I can eat quickly, without having to cook it. While I enjoyed the popcorn at the Drive In, it wasn't exactly filling and my rumbling stomach has grown progressively more painful as the hours have gone by. In the end I grab a handful of cereal and take it back to my bedroom with me. I devour it in about two seconds flat, but can't face going back to get anymore. Instead I climb miserably into bed and try to get some sleep, hoping morning will come soon.

"Ponyboy…Ponyboy…come on kiddo, time to wake up." I slowly open my eyes, feeling groggy and confused. My bedside lamp is turned on and I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the sudden and unexpected brightness. I become aware of someone leaning over me and I squint to try and see who it is. "That's it, up and at 'em Little Brother."

For one heart-stopping moment I think it's Soda. Just for a second I start to believe that Soda never left for 'Nam and everything that's happened since was nothing but a horrible nightmare. Then a strong pair of arms pull me out of bed and, as I sway unsteadily on my feet, it's Darry's face that drifts into focus.

"Darry?" I whisper, hoping confusion masks the disappointment in my voice. "What are you doing?" I look around my bedroom, feeling uneasy and disorientated. I can tell it's too early to be getting up, I didn't shut my curtains last night and the sky is inky black behind my window.

"I just wanted to speak to you." Darry says simply, as if this explains everything. I wonder dimly if he's still drunk.

"Oh-kay," I say slowly, trying to think how best to handle this situation. I can feel a headache forming behind my eyes and really want nothing more than to get back into bed. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"I'm not sure," Darry confesses, looking thoughtful. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "I think…I think you might be mad at me. I think I did something wrong…something bad…but I can't remember what. Did I do something bad Ponyboy?" He sounds so desolate and lost that I forget that I am, in fact, mad at him, and shake my head.

"No, you didn't do anything bad. We had a bit of a fight, but it's ok now. Everything's ok." Darry nods like he understands but he still looks confused.

"Did I yell at you?" He whispers despondently.

"A little bit." Darry nods again and, to my alarm, his eyes begin to swim with tears.

"Sorry." He murmurs shakily. "I'm just a shit big brother really aren't I? You look so sad Ponyboy, and I want to make it better but I can't. And I do bad things like yell at you. And then you cry, I remember you crying now. I'm just wrong, everything I do is wrong and bad. I hate seeing you cry Ponyboy." He's working himself up into a state, talking so fast I can hardly understand him.

"I hate seeing you cry too." I tell him, hoping to distract him. At least he's using my name this time, which means he knows he's talking to me. I reach out and take his hand. "And you're not bad or wrong, you're just upset. But things'll get better, I'm gona help you Darry. We'll make them better together." I squeeze his hand encouragingly.

"Promise?" Darry asks after a moment, sounding like a little kid.

"Cross my heart." I tell him, watching with relief as gives me a watery smile and begins to wipe at his eyes. Once I think he's calmed down enough, I ask him the million dollar question. "Darry, are you drunk?"

He looks at me for a minute before answering and I brace myself, just in case another slap is coming my way. "Maybe," he says softly, suddenly sounding very tired. "Just a little bit."

I nod my head, appreciating his honesty. At least I know where I stand now. I take a deep breath and try to decide what to do next. Darry stares back at me expectantly, waiting for me to take charge. I will myself to come up with something fast. Inspiration strikes suddenly and I grasp Darry's hand tighter. "Want me to put you to bed?"

He nods and allows me to lead him out of my room and down the hall. He stops outside his door and looks at me, shaking his head. "What's wrong?" I ask, confused. "Do you not want to sleep in here?"

"Soda's room." Darry whispers, still shaking his head. I understand then; I'd forgotten how Darry had moved into Soda's old room after mom and dad died and Soda starting sleeping with me.

"Ok," I say, not wanting him to get upset again. "Ok, come on."

I lead him back into the living room and manoeuvre him into the recliner. I stand back once I've got him settled and he stares blankly at me, his eyes glossy with tiredness and alcohol. "You can sleep here." I tell him. He nods to show he understands and I smile at him before turning to go back to my room. I feel his hand grasp my wrist. When I turn back to face him he looks so completely terrified I almost freak out myself.

"Can you stay with me Ponyboy? Just until I fall asleep - I can't sleep by myself."

"Yeah, of course I can." I whisper, quickly climbing onto Darry's lap to prevent him from saying anything else and waking Two-Bit up. Darry immediately wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly against his chest. A thought comes to me suddenly. "Darry…is that why you drink sometimes. To help you get to sleep?"

His eyes are closed and for a minute I think he's fallen asleep, but then he mumbles drowsily, "Yeah, but don't tell Ponyboy. He doesn't know y'see." Then his head lolls to the side and I know he's dropped off.

I sit there for a moment, feeling more confused than ever. This was what Darry was like before the funeral; crying, confused and needy. I thought he'd moved on these last couple of days but now it seemed like he was right back where he started. I gave up trying to understand it, likelihood was Darry wouldn't even remember our conversation tomorrow morning, and snagged the blanket up from the floor. Wrapping it over us, I laid my head against Darry's chest and let the rumbling sound of Two-bit's snores and the slow methodic beat of Darry's heartbeat lull me to sleep.

When I next wake up I feel slightly better. Even though I can feel it's still early, I can see slits of daylight peeking through the blinds so I know it's no longer the middle of the night. I cautiously extract myself from Darry's hold, taking care not to wake him, and head into the kitchen. The kitchen clock tells me it's seven thirty eight, meaning I have exactly twenty-two minutes to get to school. I snag a handful of cereal and shove it into my mouth, waiting until I've taken a swig of milk before I start chewing.

I hunt around for my backpack, eventually finding it under the coffee table. As I yank my converses on I consider whether or not to wake Two-Bit up before I leave. In the end I decide against it as it would lead to me having to answer a whole lot of questions and I can't think of any place important Two-Bit has to be (apart from school of course, but he's hardly ever there before third period anyway), so I leave both him and my brother to sleep off their hangovers.

* * *

_Bit short, but I wanted to show Darry's vulnerable side! I seem to be depressing a lot of people with this story (sorry about that!) I honestly don't mean to, I'll start out intending to write a happy chapter and by the time I finish it it's turned into angst-central! But you guys review anyway, which makes me ridiculously happy. And you guys leave awesome reviews which actually tell me things you liked about the story and stuff - which is great, so thanks for those. _

_P.s. Setreochick - you (and your review) are giving me ideas you know. Maybe Pony's feelings about Soda are right ...who knows...(cue mysterious music)_


	7. Chapter 7

I'm expecting school to blissfully normal compared to everything that's been happening at home, but I find myself feeling surprisingly nervous as I weave my way through the crammed hallways. School has always been a sanctuary for me, a safe haven where I'm told exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and understand exactly what is expected of me. Life on the East side can be, at best, chaotic and, at worst, completely soul destroying. While others found solace in dingy bars and violent rumbles, I sought refuge in stuffy school classrooms where performance was ranked by test scores and answers were either right or wrong. School is a big part of who I am and it's a big part of who I'm going to be, it's my passport out of this place. But it's also more than that - school is where I find myself, where I truly feel I can be me.

That's why I can't understand my sweaty palms or the pinpricks of anxiety in my stomach. It's not until I'm sitting in first period geography that I realise it's not school that's worrying me, it's the fear of losing it. Listening to Mr Jarson drone on about fossil fuels, I'm already aware that something inside me has shifted; I'm no longer the same person I was the last time I sat in this seat. This realisation fills me with dread.

A sudden burst of activity jolts me from my thoughts and I glance around the classroom to see people frantically scrabbling around for notebooks and pencils. Mr Jarson is standing by the blackboard looking irritated. I'm trying to subtly look over the shoulder of the girl in front of me to see what I should be writing when someone hits me in the arm.

"You got a pencil kid?" The boys asks lazily, looking like he couldn't really care less. "Apparently we're supposed to be taking notes or something." The boy's face looks familiar, I think I've seen Steve talking to him a few times, but his name dances just out of reach. He's obviously a greaser, the slickness of his hair makes me acutely aware that I forgot to grease mine this morning. I self-consciously push it out of my eyes and rummage around in my backpack.

"Here." I tell him, holding out a pen that's been sitting at the bottom of my bag for at least a year and may or may not work. He leans over to take it, grinning gratefully.

"Thanks." He begins, the suddenly screws his face up. "Woah! You smell like beer kid!" He exclaims, sounding surprised but also slightly impressed. I stare at him for a moment, then quickly glance round to make sure no one else had heard him.

"Wha'd'ya mean?" I manage to stammer. He raises his eyebrows and regards me curiously.

"I mean you stink kid. You smell like some old boozer or something." I can feel myself getting embarrassed and quickly duck my head to hide the telltale blush. When I look down I catch sight of my t-shirt and suddenly realise that I didn't change my clothes this morning, so I'm still wearing the same clothes I wore last night when I slept next to Darry. I feel my hands grip the table in panic. The boy is still staring at me, his expression now bordering on concern, and I realise I must look as scared as I feel. I quickly start concocting a plausible excuse.

"Oh…uh…my brother had a party last night. Things got a bit wild…must've been split on me or something." I finally stutter, finding it hard to talk around he lump in my throat. All these lies I've been telling lately…I feel like they're strangling me.

"Huh." The boy replies, not taking his eyes off me. I force myself to meet his gaze and eventually, after what feels like years but in reality can only have been a few seconds, he nods his head. "A party huh? Sounds pretty cool." I nod in agreement, careful not to let the relief show on my face. He looks me up and down and nods again, like he's confirming something in his mind. I'm surprised to see respect shining in his eyes and I realise I might've unintentionally gained myself a reputation. However this achievement is overshadowed by more pressing problems, like how I'm going to get through today without the whole school thinking I'm some sorta alcoholic or worse, figuring out what's going on at home with Darry.

_How many people had already noticed? Was that why that girl kept staring at me in homeroom today? Maybe they all know about Darry already? This is the smart class after all, it wouldn't take too long for someone to figure it out. Maybe they all took one look at me this morning and could tell?_ The classroom suddenly feels hostile. Whispers and darting looks that seemed so meaningless and unimportant before now make my heart pound sickeningly. I realise I have to get out of here.

The boy is still staring at me. "You ok kid?" He asks, jerking me from my paranoid thoughts. "You look all…weird." Before I can reply Mr Jarson clears his throat loudly.

"Mr Jennings, Mr Curtis, is there some sort of problem back there?" He asks, clearly annoyed. The boy, something Jennings (his name is so close…M something. Mike? Mitch?), snaps his head back towards me upon hearing my name and I see recognition dawn in his eyes.

"No Sir, I was just asking to borrow a pencil." He replies quickly, not taking his eyes off me.

"Good, then would both of you kindly return to your papers and finish annotating the diagrams I'm sure you've both drawn." I glance over at the boy's paper and see that it's as blank as mine. "Now class, if I can just draw your attention to…" I shoot my hand up in the air. Mr Jarson huffs in annoyance at being interrupted again. "What is it this time Mr Curtis?"

"Can I have the bathroom pass please?" I blurt and several heads swivel to stare at me. Terrence King, a fellow greaser whom I honestly believe was placed in this class by mistake, guffaws appreciatively, thinking I'm deliberately trying to annoy Mr Jarson. Mr Jarson obviously believes this as well, as his face darkens and his moustache begins to twitch ominously. He looks about to refuse so I quickly shoot him my most pleading look. It works and Mr Jarson sighs in begrudging acceptance, quickly writing out the pass and motioning for me to come and retrieve it. I grab the pass and hightail it out of the classroom.

Luckily for me, the bathroom is empty when I get there. I let the door swing shut behind me then lean back against it, breathing hard. I stay like that for a long moment, concentrating on slowing my racing heart. Once I feel I've calmed down enough I make my way slowly over to the sink, watching my reflection grow bigger and bigger in the mirror on the wall. I lean heavily against the sink and stare at my reflection critically. Even through the chips and grime that mar the mirror's surface, I can tell I look terrible. My hair looks messy and unkempt, sticking up at odd angles where I'd slept on it funny and my skin is pale and blotchy. I look skinnier too, I'm sure my collar bones didn't used to stick out like that.

Getting sick of looking at myself and not liking who stares back at me, I quickly turn on the hot tap and wait for the water to warm up. After a couple of minutes I give up on it and resign myself to the fact that I'm going to have to use cold water. I turn on the cold tap and, taking a deep breath to brace myself, gather some water in my cupped palms and slap it over my face. Once I've recovered from the shock I do the same to the rest of my body, scrubbing around the back of my neck and under my arms. For a split-second I consider washing my t-shirt but them I remember how cold it was this morning and quickly scrap that idea. I feel better once I've finished, fresher and more alert, even though I'm sure I still smell bad.

I lean my head forward until my forehead touches the cool glass of the mirror and think about what I'm going to do next. I know I can't stay at school, there's too many people around and I can't risk anyone else finding out about Darry, that boy from geography was already suspicious. All it would take would be one phone call to social services and I'd be shipped off to some boy's home for sure. Basically, school wasn't safe anymore. Even though the thought makes my heart ache painfully, I know what I have to do. I hesitate for a split-second, wishing things could be different, before hauling myself up to stand on the edge of the sinks and climbing awkwardly out of the open bathroom window. I jump to the ground with a thud, the soles of my feet stinging as they slap the concrete. I start to walk towards the school gates and force myself to not look back.

There's no way around it, I have to choose between myself (my happiness, my future, my sanctuary) and Darry. My brother wins every time.

* * *

_Aw, poor Pony - this story is even depressing me! Thanks for the reviews - they make me happy! It seems quite a few of you don't want Soda to be dead so I'm gonna take that into account when looking at where this story is headed (I'll probably do a poll at some point so everyone can vote on it) but there's loads more I want to do with this story first, so you guys won't be getting Soda back anytime soon. But, on the plus side, there's loads of Curly Shepard in the next chapter! _

_Oh, and did anyone catch the oh-so-subtle "That was then this is now" reference? Let me know in a review and I'll hand out cyber-cookies (which I'm sure you all know are like a million times better than regular cookies, and much less fattening ; p ) to everyone who gets it right. _


	8. Chapter 8

"You look like shit Curtis." I crack open one eye and, recognising the smirking face grinning down at me, promptly shut it again.

It was nearing two o'clock and I'd spent the morning meandering around town, killing time. Around lunchtime the sun had broken through the blanket of clouds and I'd made my way to the park. I'd found the slab of concrete where the old jungle gym used to be (it had been moved to the opposite side of the park a couple of years ago) and had been laying here, staring at the sky, ever since.

"Go away Curly." I say flatly, not sure whether I mean it or not. I leave it up to Curly to decide. After a moment I hear the scrape of denim against stone and realise he's sat down beside me. I ignore him and focus on the sky, watching as the wisps of white cloud twist and turn to form objects I recognise. _A fairground horse, a leaf, a two-headed rabbit. _

"What cha looking at?" Curly asks, never one to enjoy companionable silences.

"Nothin'." I tell him, knowing he wouldn't understand about the clouds. I raise my hand to block out the sun so I can see Curly properly, without having to squint. "How you doin' Curly?"

"Not bad kid, not bad. Same old same old y'know?" I nod. "How 'bout you?"

"Eh…" I say, stalling for time. There are so many ways I could answer him but most of them involve either lying or telling the truth, neither of which seems like a desirable option. "I'm getting by." I tell him eventually and we lapse into silence once again. I turn my gaze back to the clouds and Curly tips in head back too, obviously trying to see what's holding my attention. He looks hard for a minute before shaking his head and giving up. I smirk inside, appreciating his attempt at understanding, even if he failed miserably.

"You're a weird one Curtis." He declares in typical Curly fashion, leaning back to rest on his hands. He kicks my leg lightly to get my attention. "Hey, shouldn't you be in school?"

"Shouldn't you?" I shoot back to avoid answering, reluctant to admit I'm cutting. He'd have a field day with that one. I watch him as he considers this for a moment, rummaging around in his jacket pocket like he's looking for something.

"You want a cigarette?" He asks, smartly changing the subject. I smile, proud that I've won that round. Curly produces a pack of Kools and brandishes them proudly. I knew there was a reason I let Curly sit with me.

I nod eagerly and sit up, watching as he lights a Kool and sticks it in his mouth then repeats the process and hands one to me. I gulp in the smoke, feeling instantly more relaxed. Curly watches me curiously and I grin at him as I blow out the smoke. He lets me enjoy my cigarette in peace for a couple of minutes before clearing his throat, sounding as close to awkward as I've ever heard him.

"I ran into Two-Bit in town today." He states, watching me carefully. I pause mid puff. "Told me that he and your brother got pretty blitzed last night." I swallow thickly, the smoke that tasted so good seconds ago suddenly tasting stale in my mouth.

"He shouldn't have told you." I snap eventually, getting mad at Two-Bit being preferable to having to tell Curly about Darry.

"He was worried about you, said he'd woken up this morning and you'd gone. He wanted to know if I'd seen you, that's the only reason he told me. Even then I practically had to beat it out of him." Curly has dropped his gaze and is pretending to concentrate on savagely yanking at clump of grass, but I can tell he's watching me through his eyelashes.

"It's ok, I'm not really mad at him." I confess, feeling bad that I'd made Two-Bit worry. Perhaps I should've left a note. "I just…don't want too many people knowing, y'know."

"It's true then?" He blurts and I realise he's got me cornered, there's no way I can deny it after what I've just said. I scowl in response. I'd always thought of Curly as not too bright, but he was having a pretty good shot at proving me wrong. Sweetening me up with a cigarette before moving in for the kill; Curly was proving to be smarter than he looked.

"Maybe." I mumble, which we both know means yes. Curly nods slowly and blows smoke out of the side of his mouth, looking thoughtful.

"Why?" He asks after a minute and I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion.

"Why what?"

"Why is he drinking and stuff? I mean, he didn't used to right?" I knock some ashes off the tip of my cigarette and think about Curly's question. I'd never really thought about why Darry was acting this way, I've been too preoccupied trying to coax him out of it. Curly must've read the confusion on my face because he shrugged and added, "You can't fix something if you don't know why it's broke."

I stare at him. That Curly Shepard is a smart one alright, I can't believe I hadn't thought of that myself. Curly grins at my surprised expression, looking pleased with himself. I look at him and suddenly find myself wanting to tell him. Curly may be a smart ass and a trainee-hood, but I know he won't judge me or Darry and he won't try to interfere.

"You know about Soad right?" I ask quietly and Curly's smile disappears. I figured Two-Bit had let him know. Darry had phoned Two-Bit the day after we'd received the letter and asked him to let people know. Neither me nor Darry could face doing it ourselves.

"Yeah." He says solemnly. "Two-Bit told me about that too. Sorry about that, Sodapop was an alright guy." I nod, even though I know Curly never really liked Soda all that much. He liked to call Soda 'Pretty Boy', much to Soda's chagrin. Steve always said Curly was jealous. Either way, Curly knows how much Soda meant to me and I know he's genuinely sorry that I've lost him, even if he didn't care for Soda himself.

"Well that's when it started, I think drinking helped him forget for a bit. Then he lost his job, but I don't think cared." I take a deep breath and focus my attention on my cigarette to avoid looking at Curly. "He doesn't do anything anymore, he just drinks…and sometimes he cries. It's like he's just given up, nothing matters to him anymore. Not even me." I whisper the last three words, not sure whether I want Curly to hear them or not. If he does, he doesn't comment and I'm grateful for it. Instead he nods his head sympathetically.

"Sounds shit." He states bluntly, taking another puff on his cigarette. For a second I don't know how to react, then I open my mouth and start to laugh. It feels so good to hear someone say that, like Curly's giving me permission to admit just how hard my life can be. Once I've started, I can't seem to stop. The laughter is coming from somewhere deep inside me and I throw my head back and let it gush out. I haven't laughed in a long long time and at first it sounds foreign to my ears, like something I remember from a dream. Curly looks at me strangely for a minute, before shaking his head and starting to laugh too.

"It is!" I cry through my laughter, nodding my head in agreement. "It's completely shit. My life is shit!" I feel much better once I've said it, like a big weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Suddenly tears are spilling out of my eyes. I have no idea whether they're tears of laughter, relief or sorrow and what's more I don't care. I'm still laughing so hard my stomach hurts and Curly is leaning heavily against me trying to catch his breath. I wonder dimly if I'm going mad. Maybe me and Darry are both crazy. We'll probably end up in the loony bin together. This thought just makes me laugh harder.

"Our lives are shit!" Curly yells loudly, his voice carrying across the empty park. "Completely fucking shit!"

I collapse in a heap on the ground and Curly joins me a moment later. We both just lie there, wiping our eyes and gasping for breath, until we've calmed down. I feel better than I've felt in months. Curly lights another cigarette and passes it to me before lighting one for himself. "You know what I heard?" He asks out the blue. I shake my head, keeping up with neighbourhood gossip hasn't really been high on my list of priorities lately. "Sylvia's knocked up."

"Sylvia?" I turn to stare at him. "As in Dally's Sylvia?" Curly laughs harshly.

"Kid, Sylvia hasn't ever been Dallas's. But yeah, that's her."

"And she's pregnant?" Although I'm shocked by this information I'm also, in some twisted sense, revelling it. It's nice to have something to distract me from my own problems for a minute. "Is is Dally's?"

"How the fuck should I know." Curly snaps irritably. Talking about Dallas always makes him edgy. I think it has something to do with Dally's similarity to Tim, it must've been pretty easy for Curly to imagine Tim's body crumpling under that streetlight instead. "It's not like she's told me. I just saw her at Buck's the other night and she was as big as the side of a fucking house."

"Wow," I breathe, finding selfish comfort in the fact that someone else's life is as screwed up as mine. "Bet her Dad hit the roof."

"He probably kicked her out. That's what my old man would do if Angela come home up the duff." Curly's voice is completely void of emotion and if I didn't know any better I'd say he didn't care; but I once saw Curly cry over a dog that had been run over in the street so I know he feels things much more deeply than he lets on. It's one of the reasons why I like him.

"She's not old enough to hava baby." I say after a minute, thinking of Sylvia with her high heeled shoes and dirty mouth, but also the desperate way she cried at Dally's funeral and the time I saw her Dad slap her around the face for forgetting to bring in the laundry. I don't think she's even eighteen yet.

"None of us are old enough Pony," Curly says tiredly. I look over and see he's closed his eyes. He looks older than his fifteen years and I suddenly realise that he wasn't just messing around when he said his life was shit. "We're all too young."

We both lie still for a bit, thinking about things. I want to say something to make Curly feel better but I don't feel like getting punched in the face so instead I change the subject. Curly doesn't really dig mushy stuff like that.

"Hey Curly?" He grunts in response so I continue. "How did ya find me today? You track me down or something?" Curly laughs and he face looses some of the tension. I don't think Curly gets the chance to laugh anymore than I do.

"Nah, I don't like ya that much kid." He jokes and I shake my head. I know he doesn't really mean it, it's just Curly's way. "I come here sometimes, just to get away from things y'know."

"Yeh, I know." I say and mean it. Neither of us asks what the other is trying to get away from. A cool breeze has picked up and I shiver slightly, tugging my thin jacket closer to my body. I'll need to look out my winter coat soon. Curly notices and clears his throat.

"You should get on home kid, rain's coming in." I tip my head back and stare at the sky, but I can't see the possibility of rain anymore than Curly could see the shapes in the clouds earlier. I decide to take his word for it and clamber awkwardly to my feet.

"You not coming?" I ask as I brush the dirt from my pants.

"Nah, I think I'm just gonna stay here for a bit." He says, closing his eyes once again.

"Ok." I say easily, not wanting to push the matter. I can understand and respect Curly's need to be alone for a while. Hell, he probably would've had the whole afternoon if I hadn't gatecrashed his thinking spot. "See ya then." I tell him, not waiting for a reply before starting to walk away. The Shepards' don't believe in saying goodbye.

"Ponyboy." I turn back around, thinking I've probably forgotten something. I have a habit of doing that. Curly's sitting up, tossing his packet of Kools from hand to hand. He watches me thoughtfully for a moment before throwing the packet at me. "Here. I think you need them more than I do."

I catch the cigarettes clumsily and hear him snigger. I look back up, preparing to say thank you; Curly is just as much as a weed fiend as I am, so I know it's no mean feat for him to just hand over a pack of cigarettes. But Curly's already laying back down, his arms placed comfortably behind his head and his eyes closed. I smile and back away quietly, leaving Curly by himself.

As I make my way back home I count the cigarettes. He's given me nearly a whole pack. Just as I reach our front yard, I feel a drop of rain land on my face. I let out a chuckle and sprint the rest of the way to the house, crashing onto the porch just as the Heavens open. I sit down on our old loveseat and watch the rain for a minute. Curly Shepard may be a lot of things, many of which will probably help earn him fifteen to life, but he's a pretty alright guy underneath it all.

* * *

_Phew, that was a pretty quick update - don't expect all of them to be that fast! But I got lots of reviews for the last chapter, so I thought I'd better pull my finger out._ _Well done to everyone who picked up on the Twttin reference, the boy who told Pony he stank was in fact Mark Jennings (just to put you out of your misery "A terrible Beauty"!). Casper Rainbow and Stereochick - I hope you enjoy your cyber-cookies!_

_I seem to have created a pretty philosophical Curly Shepard in this chapter, but at least it's not too depressing right? (I mean, compared to my usual standards). That little bit about Sylvia was just a pointless backstory really, it's not going to go anywhere or effect the rest of the plot, I just thought I'd add it in. I'm really glad people seem to be enjoying this fic - I just hope it lives up to your expectations! I'd hate for anyone to be disappointed. _

_SS - Thanks for your review. In regards to your question, I'm honestly not sure. I'm absolutely rubbish at planning things out and things have a tendency to just write themselves into a chapter while I'm typing so who knows! But I will say things are going to get worse for Pony and Darry before they get better - that I know for definate. Have you read Logan Parker's fic Along Came A Spider? If not you should definately check it out, it focuses more on physical abuse whereas this fic is mostly about neglect. That and it's completely fantastic of course. _


	9. Chapter 9

As time passes, Darry and I fall into a twisted sort of routine. Instead of being governed by the ticking of a clock or the dates on a calendar, our day to day lives are ruled by Darry's ever-changing moods. He can jump from stupidly happy to ragingly angry in a matter of minutes and pretty much anything can set him off. I've learnt to sidestep around him and keep my voice neutral, not commenting on his behaviour and never questioning his decisions. It's like I'm leading a double life, one where I'm still the kid and Darry is calling all the shots, the other where everything depends on me keeping it together and making sure things run smoothly. I can't decide which I hate more. The worst thing is the tension of not knowing when I'm supposed to be the kid and when I'm supposed to be the adult.

Some mornings Darry will be waiting for me in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, just like he used to do. I'll sit down and the table and he'll smile at me before getting up to make me breakfast. He'll reach for a cereal bowl that has been rammed into an over-full cupboard and that needs some puling and wriggling before it'll come loose. He'll try for a few seconds, it's almost painful to watch him, then give up and burst into tears. And, just like that, the façade has shattered. That's my queue to switch from kid to grown up, so I'll jump in, rushing to grab a bowl myself or babbling some excuse - _"__It__'__s ok Darry, I can get my own breakfast!__"_- but that often just seems to make him worse. He'll swipe angrily at his eyes, before taking a deep breath like he's trying desperately not to loose his patience. Just with me or with life in general, I'm never quite sure.

"No." He says slowly, his controlled tone of voice not matching his clenched fists. "I can do it." Then just like that I'm back to being the child again.

Sometimes he manages it, sometime he doesn't. When he doesn't he'll slam his hand angrily against the table or the wall before stalking off to his room, leaving me sitting alone in the kitchen, shaking from the stress of it all and blaming myself for making him mad. On days like that I'll go to school just to keep out of his way because I know he'll stay in a bad mood until he gets himself too drunk to remember why he was mad in the first place. And that's never a fun thing to witness.

If he does succeed in making me breakfast, he'll sit across from me at the table and watch me eat it, like he needs to see me enjoy it before he can feel he's met his guardianship quota for the day. By the time the food is placed in front of me, my stomach will be coiled so tightly from nerves that even the thought of eating makes me feel ill; but I'll place a stupid grin on my face and choke down whatever he's managed to make (cereal, burnt toast, leftover macaroni), making sure to tell him how great it tastes and how much I'm enjoying it between each mouthful. On those days I won't go to school, partly because Darry's taken so long to make breakfast that I'm already late, but mainly because I feel so exhausted by the whole process I physically can't get up from the kitchen chair.

Then there are days when Darry won't do anything at all.. He'll sit on the sofa or lie on his bed, unmoving and unseeing. Even though I hate him drinking more than anything else in the world, out of desperation I'll sometimes hold a beer bottle in front of his face, hoping that alcohol may achieve what I'd failed to do myself and snap him out of it. But even that doesn't seem to work. I'll stay home from school on those day as well, too scared to leave Darry alone for more than a few minutes just in case he does something stupid like try to kill himself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but sometimes I'll look into Darry's eyes and they'll be so blank and lifeless, that I wonder if he believes he has nothing left to live for. Days like that are definitely the worst, at least when he's shouting or crying I know he's feeling something. When he stares like that…it's like he's just gone.

Since we got the letter about Soda, Darry can't seem to mange the simple, everyday tasks that keep life ticking over. It usually only takes something small, a tiny little detail or some menial task that I hadn't foreseen coming and therefore not been able to deflect, to push him over the edge. Sometimes he'll let me help him, like allowing me to make him a cup of coffee so he won't get upset when he spills some or standing complacently in front of the bathroom mirror while I kneel on a kitchen chair and give him a shave. Other times he'll get mad at me for patronising him.

"I'm the grown-up here Ponyboy and you're the kid!" He'll shout and I'll disappear into my room for a while until he's drunk enough beers to forget that he was mad in the first place. Then I'll finish what I was trying to do before.

He'll occasionally go through phases of being manically happy, like the time I came home from school and found him in the kitchen, surrounded by mixing bowls and ingredients, baking birthday cake after birthday cake until he'd made the perfect one, or the time he woke me up in the middle of the night and dragged me into the living room to dance with him to some song on the radio. Those episodes inevitably ended in tears. Eventually he'd realise that I wasn't acting as excited as he was and get angry at me for ruining things and being a spoilsport. I guess in many ways he was right - most kids would be thrilled to come home and find at least five birthday cakes cooling on the kitchen counter but I'd freaked out, he'd spent a fortune on all the ingredients and the kitchen was a complete mess, and shouted at Darry that it wasn't even my birthday. He'd turned around very slowly and looked at me for a long moment. I braced myself for a smack but what came was much worse.

"If it's not you're birthday…" He hissed, voice dangerously low. "THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I MAKING YOU BIRTHDAY CAKE!!" He'd bellowed suddenly, making me jump.

"I don't know." I'd whispered, backing up until I felt the kitchen wall behind me.

"FUCK!" Darry had yelled again, then spun around and pushed all the cooking stuff off the counter and on to the floor with an almighty crash. He then began to grab the cakes from the counter and throw them against the kitchen wall. I ducked and covered my head with my hands to avoid getting splattered. When he'd started kicking the kitchen cabinets I'd burst into tears and run to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind to try and stop him.

"I'm sorry Darry!" I'd cried. "I'll eat the birthday cake. I promise I'll eat it, just stop! Please!" And miraculously, he did. We stood in the centre of our wrecked kitchen, Darry breathing heavily while I sobbed into his back from relief. After a few minutes he shoved my arms away and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Clean this mess up." He'd snapped over his shoulder and a few seconds later I'd heard the sound of a bottle being opened. That night I'd pulled Soda's old sweatshirt out of the closet and slept in it.

Money had been a problem even before Darry's birthday cake episode, but afterwards our financial situation hit an all time low. Soda's funeral had used up pretty much all of Darry's savings and, with no income coming in, we were basically broke. Each morning I'd collect the bills from our mailbox and stuff them underneath the couch cushions before Darry could see them. I didn't even bother to read them anymore, I knew what the red envelopes meant. When I thought about money, or the lack of it, I felt so sick with worry that in the end I just stopped. Maybe if I ignored it long enough, it would just sort itself out.

That's why when Tim Shepard walked through our door on that miserable Thursday night and announced that he wanted to offer Darry a job, I thought my prayers had been answered. "What kinda job?" I asked eagerly, eyeing Tim excitedly as he made himself uncomfortable in the couch.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about Squirt." His eyes flicked over to Darry for a second before returning to the cigarette he was trying to light. "This business is strictly between me and your big brother here."

I frowned, getting the distinct impression he was trying to get rid of me. I looked up at Darry. He'd had a few drinks that evening but no where near the amount he usually consumed, so he was only slightly tipsy. Despite this I still didn't like the idea of leaving him alone to make business deals with Tim Shepard.

Realising that I had no plans to leave the room, Tim's face clouded over dangerously . "Beat it kid." He snapped, obviously not accustomed to being ignored. I ducked my head but remained where I was, even though inside I was terrified. Tim was _not_ the kinda person you said no to.

Darry seemed oblivious to the tension that had crept into the room and handed Tim a beer before opening one for himself. He took a big sip then finally focused his eyes on me. "Pony why don't you go and…I dunno…tidy your room or something. It's just grown-up stuff Pone, you'll be bored." He said pleasantly, like he honestly believed he could get rid of me that easily. I fought the urge to scoff.

"I don't care, I'll stay anyway." I said breezily, deciding to play Darry at his own game. If it was no big deal if I went, it wouldn't be a big deal if I stayed either. I moved to sit on the couch but Darry put and arm out to stop me.

"Ponyboy," He growled, barely managing to suppress the anger that had sprung up out of nowhere. "Get lost ok?" I hesitated for a moment, trying to weigh up the pros and cons and decide whether it was worth pushing my luck or not, but then I saw Darry start to raise his hand. That made my decision for me and I quickly began to back out of the room before Darry could strike. Getting slapped in front of Tim Shepard would be too embarrassing for words, it was bad enough he'd seen Darry raise his hand like that.

"Jesus man, if Curly ever spoke to me like that I'd kick his ass from here to New York City." I heard Tim say as I headed down the hall to my room.

"Don't friggin' tempt me." Darry muttered darkly, and I quickly sped up just in case. "Now, what's this I hear about a job Shepard?"

Once I was safely inside my room I started to formulate a plan. I'm not dumb enough to spy on them from the hallway, Darry would suss me out in a second inebriated or not, but I needed to find out what they're discussing out there. I had a strong feeling it might have something to do with my conversation with Curly, he might be an alright guy but he can't keep his mouth shut worth shit, especially around Tim. Suddenly I got an idea. I ran to my window and pushed it up, shivering involuntarily as a harsh gust of wind whips into my room. I took a deep breath and climbed up onto the ledge before dropping silently to the ground.

When Tim strolls out of our house twenty minutes later I'm sitting waiting for him on the hood of his car. He starts when he sees me then scowls. "Get your ass back inside the house kid, it's damn near freezing out here." I deliberately ignore his demand and try to force myself to stop shivering.

"I wanna know about Darry's job Tim. It's real important that I know so I need you to tell me about it ok?" I try to sound confident and assertive but my voice wavers towards the end, taking on a pleading tone that makes me sound every one of my measly thirteen years. Sometimes it's hard trying to be grown-up.

Tim smirks and goes to get into the drivers seat, not taking me seriously. "Yeah ok, whatever kid. Go bug your brother about it huh? I really don't give a shit."

I reach out and grab hold of his arm before I realise what I'm doing. He stares down at my hand in shock, like he can't quite believe that I'm daring to touch him. I can hardly believe it myself, I'm treading on seriously dangerous territory here. I've never been this brave before.

"Tim please." I whisper, forcing myself to look him in the eye. "I just gotta know ok? Darry's all I've got left…" I trail off, my nerve finally failing me. Tim doesn't say anything at first, just grabs my hand and throws it roughly off his arm, the momentum making me rock back and nearly slide off the hood of his car. I figure I'm about to get punched in the face and I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for the blow to hit; no point in making him madder by running. When it doesn't come, I crack them open again and find Tim staring at me thoughtfully. I squirm under his gaze.

"You're one brave little cuss ain't ya?" He asks eventually, smirking in what I hope is amusement rather than malice. "Either that or you're just too dumb to know when to quit." I don't know what to say to that so I just shrug my shoulders. He shakes his head like he can't believe what he's seeing. "You're brother's gonna be my new security guard kid, that's all. No fancy shit or anything. Me and Buck are going into business together, running a nightly poker game in his backroom. You're brother's gonna make sure no one sneaks in who ain't invited, you dig?"

I nod, feeling relief flood through me. "Ok…" I breathe. "That's ok." Tim laughs harshly.

"I'm glad we got you're approval kid." He comments dryly, lighting a cigarette. "Oh and by the way, you tell anyone about our little business deal and I'll kill you." He states nonchalantly, blowing smoke slowly out of the corner of his mouth. I jerk my head up, staring into his eyes to try and gauge whether he's joking with me or not. He stares back at me deadly serious and I gulp.

"Ok." I stammer, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. "I ain't gonna tell no one."

"Good." He barks, putting his cigarette out with his fingers and pocketing the rest for later. "Now get you're scrawny little ass the fuck off my car!"

I jerk into action, jumping down from his bonnet and stumbling as I hit the ground. I hear the car door slam and by the time I've managed to turn around all that's left of Tim is a pair of tail lights disappearing into the night. I shake my head, barely able to grasp what just happened. At least if Darry's got a job, he's gonna be earning some money, and not a moment too soon in my opinion. So what if the jobs not legit? An illegal job is better than no job at all right? It's like my mom used to say; beggars can't be choosers.

* * *

_Hey everybody! Sorry about the delay with this chapter, I had one of those weeks were loads of stuff seems to happen at once so this story had to take a back seat for a while - but here's an extra long chapter (with added Timothy Shepard) to make up for it! _

_Now I know this chapter was a bit different style wise to the others (like Pony was talking about events that had happened over a period of time rather than following the day to day pattern like previous chapters have) but I'm really trying to pick up the plot now and get some action happening. What did you all think of it? Which kind of of chapter do you prefer? _

_I also feel I should apologise for the randomness of the birthday cake part - I honestly don't know where that came from. I just kinda slipped it in there to show how confused and unpredictable Darry is. I hope it didn't confuse anyone and you didn't find it too weird. Anyways, let me know what you thought in a review and I shall see you all in chapter 10!_


	10. Chapter 10

"You're going out." I stated flatly, looking up from my dinner when Darry walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in a tight fitting black t-shirt with his hair slicked back and his face freshly shaven. I wasn't really surprised, ever since Tim had given Darry a job he'd been out 'til late every evening, not arriving home until long after I'd fallen asleep.

I knew I should feel pleased, landing the job with Tim seemed to have given Darry some motivation, something positive to work towards and he'd been in a much better mood since starting work, but I got lonely being stuck in the house all by myself. It sounds selfish, but I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that my brothers had abandoned me. My brothers have always played such a prominent role in my life (since mom and dad died they've pretty much _become _my life) that, without them around to complete me, I don't know who I'm supposed to be. And that's a pretty scary feeling.

"Yeah, Tim wants me there early tonight." Darry replies, jerking me out of my thoughts. He peers over my shoulder and wrinkles his nose at my dinner. "What the hell are you eating Ponyboy?" He snaps, sounding suddenly annoyed.

I shrug noncommittally and quickly start shovelling the food into my mouth, just in case he tries to take the bowl away. I'm actually eating a combination of dry cereal, canned tuna and peanut butter which tastes just as disgusting as it sounds. But I haven't been able to scrounge up enough money to take another trip to the grocery store, so I've taken to eating whatever fills my belly rather than what tastes good. Right now tuna, cereal and peanut butter are pretty much the only food we've got, so I've just gotta suck it up and get on with it.

When it becomes apparent that I'm not going to answer him, Darry huffs in annoyance and starts banging around the kitchen, opening cupboards and peering inside. "Why the hell is there no food in this house?!" He yells, slamming the refrigerator door shut.

I sink down lower in my chair and try to make myself invisible. I don't think it's occurred to Darry that we're having money problems and I'm not itching to be the one to tell him about them, especially not right now. I've come to the conclusion that New Darry can only focus on one thing at a time. It used to be Sodapop (or, more accurately, the lack of Sodapop) but now, his focus has shifted onto his new job. I keep waiting for the day he's gonna remember about me, but I can't see it happening anytime soon.

"You're gonna be late Dar." I say quietly, hoping to distract him.

"Shit!" He rushes out of the kitchen and starts searching for his work boots. I remain at the table for a minute, remembering how Old Darry used to cover my ears whenever anyone said a curse word and would rather have slit his own throat than swear in front of me. It feels like a lifetime ago.

"Ponyboy, where are my shoes?!" Darry's voice has turned into a desperate sounding whine so I push myself up and follow him into the living room, picking up his shoes from behind the couch as I go.

"Here." I hold them out to him and he smiles at me before jamming them onto his feet. "What time are you gonna be back tonight?" I blurt out suddenly, even though I promised myself that I wouldn't. I'd asked him the same question yesterday and he'd gotten mad and accused me of spying on him. I edge away from him slightly, just in case. Tonight though, he just smiles.

"I won't be long, a few hours at the most." I must still look worried because he walks over and places his hands on my shoulders. "I'll be back by midnight at the latest ok? I promise."

"Ok." I nod, glancing sideways at the clock. It's seven-thirty now, which leaves me with four and a half hours in the house by myself. That's a pretty long time…I quickly shove my worries aside and force myself to smile, not wanting to spoil things by being a baby. I should be happy for Darry, not making things difficult.

"Oh Pone, don't look so worried! Look, Tim said he's gonna pay me soon, and when he does, me and you can go out and do something ok? Something fun." Darry smiles, giving my shoulders a comforting squeeze. "I'll see you later. Midnight, I promise."

He slams the screen door behind him and a few seconds later I hear the roar of the truck's engine. "I promise." I whisper to myself, not sure if I'm mocking Darry or trying to convince myself that, unlike every other night so far, he'll keep his word.

I sigh deeply before setting off down the hall, ready to start my nightly routine. First I go into Darry's room. It feels weird standing in there, surrounded by all his things. If it wasn't for the pungent alcoholic smell that had settled over the room, I could almost believe that everything was normal. I shake my head to keep the memories at bay and focus on my task.

I cross over to the window and push against it. It creaks a little but doesn't open. I check to make sure it's locked and the catch is properly pulled down just to make sure. Once I'm satisfied nothing (or no one for that matter) is able to get in I leave the room, flicking on the light switch as I leave. I repeat the process in every other room in the house until I find myself back in the living room. I stand still for a moment, letting the silence soak into me. The kitchen light hums in the background but other than that, the only sound I can hear is my own breathing. I find this both comforting and terrifying, although I'm not sure how that's possible.

I look at the clock and see it's now seven-forty five. Four hours and fifteen minutes to go. I start to wonder around the living room, looking for something to do to pass the time and get my mind off the emptiness. I haven't been to school for a few days so I don't have homework and I can't let my guard down enough to start reading a book. My half-eaten dinner is still sitting on the kitchen table but the thought of finishing it off makes me queasy. I reach the record player and consider playing some of Darry and Soda's records but I don't really want to think about my brothers else I'll start worrying.

I end up back where I started by seven-fifty. Midnight seems a long way away. I sit down at the couch, careful to position myself so I can still see the front door out the corner of my eye, just in case anyone tries to get in. I'd lock it if I could but Darry doesn't have a key to get back in later. I feel agitated sitting on the couch, fidgety yet not sure what to do with myself. I wish I hadn't already smoked all the cigarettes Curly had given me. I turn on the television but it sounds too loud in our silent house, no matter how low I turn the volume. A game show appears on the screen, the flashing lights and garish music jarring my already frayed nerves. I shut the set off after a minute.

I curl myself up on the couch and think of Soda. If I try really really hard, I can almost kid myself that he's here with me. I play this game for the rest of the evening, only slipping back into reality to check the house again to make sure no burglar's or murderer's have snuck in without me noticing. I know I'm being stupid and paranoid but I can't seem to help myself. I find myself wishing that I had a blade, just in case.

I stay curled up on the couch until two o'clock, then I give up and go to bed.

* * *

The next morning I find Darry passed out on the couch. He stinks of booze and for a minute, I don't want to go anywhere near him. Then I remind myself that he's still my brother and crouch down next to him. He's got a black eye, a split lip and the knuckles on his right hand are bright red and swollen. I guess that's the occupational hazard of being a security guard. I fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom and manage to wrap up his hand and clean the blood away from his lip before he swats me away. 

"Leave me alone Ponyboy." He grumbles, pushing at me clumsily. "I'm tired." I sit back on my heels and start to pack up the first aid kit. I've learnt from experience that it's best to leave him be when he's like this. I put the kit away and pick up my school bag, figuring I'd better show my face at school at least once this week. The last thing I need is one of my teachers getting suspicious.

I fall asleep during fourth period chemistry and the nurse sends me home, believing that I haven't properly recovered from the nasty virus that's kept me off school for the past four days. In reality I'm exhausted, both emotionally and physically. I'm so tired I can hardly manage the walk home. When I eventually do get there Darry is still laid out on the couch, exactly where I'd left him. I collapse on the floor in front of the tv, too tired to even drag myself to my bedroom. I fall asleep in seconds.

"Darrell Curtis, get your lazy ass up off that couch! I got something for you." I hear the screen door slam and groggily open my eyes, not recognising the voice booming across the living room. "Jesus Darry, you were on fire last night. You shoulda seen their faces man, never seen the fuckers look so scared! That's the last time they'll try and crash one of my poker games that's for sure!" Tim Shepard is standing in our living room, a brown paper bag clutched in his arms, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I roll over onto my back and rub my eyes to check I'm not dreaming. "And that big one who clocked you in the mouth, he thought you were gonna break his legs or something. Practically shit himself. I've never seen anything like it."

Tim steps further into the room, leaning down to place the bag on the coffee table and spots me laying on the floor. I sit up, too bewildered and confused to be embarrassed about being found sprawled out on the carpet. Tim's eyes go wide when he sees me and he clears his throat awkwardly. He sets the bag down and it makes a familiar clinking sound. I feel my stomach drop.

"Oh hi kid, didn't expect you to uh…shouldn't you be in school or somewhere." Tim asks, looking shifty.

"I'm sick." I mutter offhandedly, still eyeing the bag. "What's in the bag Tim?"

"Darry's wages. I told him I'd bring the rest around this afternoon." I slowly process what he's just said, feeling growing sense of dread spread through me.

"You're not paying him in money?" I stammer after a moment, just to check I haven't jumped to the wrong confusion. I pray fervently that I have, that I've misunderstood Tim and this is all a big mistake. _Please God…please. _

"Hell no. I ain't got no more of that than you greasers do. Didn't I tell you we was going into business with Buck? You know Buck don't deal in anything 'cept alcohol and horses, and your brother sure as hell didn't want no horses." I gape at Tim, too shocked to respond. I don't know whether to burst into tears, punch Tim in the face or run out the door and never come back. All three scenarios flash through my mind but after a minute, I simply roll back onto my stomach, unable to look at Tim for one more second. I feel like I'm about to explode; my breath hitching in my chest and my palms slick with sweat. I flick the tv on and stare hard at the screen, hoping Tim will get the hint and leave before I lose it completely. I hear the screen door bang shut moments later.

The couch groans as Darry jerks awake with a grunt. "Whas'at?" He mumbles, sitting up and immediately clutching his head. I turn back to the tv, clenching my jaw tightly to stop myself from snapping at him. "What's in the bag?"

For a minute I consider not answering or making up some excuse in the vain hope that Darry won't end up drinking whatever Tim's bought him, but I'm sick of trying so hard and having all my work ruined again and again. It never works anyway, Darry's gonna drink no matter how hard I try and stop him. All this time I've just been kidding myself.

"It's your wages. Tim dropped it off." I say quietly, forcing my anger back down inside. It wedges in my chest, a hard, red hot ball of pain that burns so much I almost can't bear it.

"Oh." Darry says, trying to sound uninterested but failing to hide his excitement. I hear the couch shift as he moves but refuse to turn around. I can see his reflection in the tv screen as he reaches for the bag, his eyes never leaving my back and his body tense, ready to hide the bag if I were to turn suddenly. In his own twisted way, I think Darry is still trying to protect me. He knows he's losing control, that he's no longer the same person I used to proudly call my big brother and doesn't want me to see what he's become. I respect him for that, even if it hasn't worked.

He rummages through the bag, taking out two bottles of beer and placing one on the floor for later. I resign myself to the fact that this is going to be a long, hard, lonely night. I hear the sound of the bottle being opened, then a moment of silence as Darry drinks deeply. He sighs in relief after the gulp and I quickly flip on the tv, not wanting to think about how dependent on that stuff Darry had become. A re-run of _I Love Lucy _blares out of the set, making us both jump. Darry curses under his breath as some beer sloshes out of the bottle.

"Ponyboy knock it off!" He shouts angrily, dabbing at the wet splodges on his jeans. I dutifully turn the television right down, even though the ball of anger pulses in my chest. "Good boy, I've just got a bit of a headache this afternoon." His voice is softer now but I don't turn around, just to let him know I'm upset with him. He doesn't say anything for a moment and I start to think that he hasn't noticed or, worse, doesn't even care. Then he clears his throat.

"Ponyboy." He calls and waits for me to turn grudgingly to face him before continuing. "I love you."

I swallow thickly, feeling my throat constrict and my eyes start to well up. Darry takes another swig of beer, the low afternoon sunlight casting a dusty shadow over his tired face. He looks old suddenly, much older than twenty-one. I want to still feel mad at him, three little words shouldn't be enough to make everything alright again, but his eyes look so sad as they gaze steadily into mine that I feel any tremors of anger slip away.

"I love you too." I manage to whisper and Darry smiles, a sad, secret smile that doesn't reach his eyes and makes my heart ache for him. He tips the bottle back for another gulp and I turn back to the tv, keeping the volume down low just like he'd said.

* * *

_Phew, that was a hard chapter to write. On the plus side I think they're getting longer though._

_Let me know what you thought, or if you have any requests/ideas ok? I'll try and write them in for you._


	11. Chapter 11

Four days later, Two-Bit catches up with me in the school parking lot. I'm dashing across it (even though you're not supposed to if you don't have a car) to try and get home as quickly as possible. The weather has turned bitterly cold these last couple of days and a biting wind has picked up. My winter coat has lost most of it's lining and the arms are a few inches too short so the cold cuts straight through me, seeping into my bones. I'd caught sight of Soda's old coat hanging redundantly in the closet this morning and considered wearing it instead, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Hey kid!" Two-Bit calls, pulling up beside me and sticking his head out of the window. "Long time no see eh?! You wanna lift home?"

"No thanks Two-Bit, I'm ok walking." I smile reassuringly even though the lie lodges painfully in my throat. The truth is I'd give almost anything to be able to get into his nice warm car, but I know that he'll expect to come in after he drops me off and I can't risk him seeing Darry. It was bad enough last time he came round. Instead I start to walk away. Two-Bit lets me go although I can feel him watching me until I duck out of the school gates.

Ten minutes later he pulls up beside me again, just as I'm about to cross over onto our side of town. "You cold enough yet kid?" He asks, smirking.

"Shut up Two-Bit." I snap, but I can feel myself starting to smile. I know Two-Bit can sense it too, he notices everything when it comes to his friends. It's one of the reasons I've been avoiding him, I don't want him to look at me and see everything that's happened these last couple of months.

He brings the car to a sputtering stop, letting me take a few more steps before calling out, "Hey kid…you hungry?"

* * *

Two-Bit's car is warm and familiar and I bask in the sense of being driven somewhere, having someone else take control for once. Two-Bit chatters on about his mom and little sister Claire and I'm happy to just sit there and let it all wash over me. I focus on the gentle throb of the engine and the comforting lilt of Two-bit's voice and feel myself relax for the first time in weeks. I realise with a prang how much I've missed just hanging out with Two-Bit. 

We end up at The Dingo just like we always do and, although I don't want to leave the safe cocoon of Two-Bit's old ford, the smell of fried food and my growling belly force me into the diner. It isn't until we're seated at a booth that I realise I don't have any money.

Two-Bit orders a quarter-pounder with onion rings then the waitress turns expectantly to me. "Um…could I just have a glass of water please?" I mumble, feeling embarrassed and awkward. It was the only thing I could think to order that wouldn't cost anything. The waitress raises one over-plucked eyebrow.

"A glass of water?" She repeats flatly, clearly not impressed. She probably things I'm messing with her, playing some sort of joke. I wish I could give her the punch line she's waiting for but there isn't one, so I just nod and smile self-consciously, wishing fervently that I hadn't agreed to come. _Damn Two-Bit with his nice warm car and stupid grin. _

Two-Bit clears his throat to get the waitress's attention. She reluctantly drags her eyes from me to stare at Two-Bit coolly. "He'll have a double-cheese burger with no relish and a side order of fries please Darlin'."

"Two-Bit!" I hiss, giving him a kick under the table. He doesn't even wince.

"Oh and a pepsi please. Thanks Sweetheart." Two-Bit smiles broadly, completely ignoring me. The waitress looks between us for a minute more before writing down the order and walking away, muttering darkly to herself. "Phew-ew, you better check you're burger before you eat it Pone, just in case she spits in it or something. You managed to piss her off good and proper!"

"What did you go and do that for?!" I snap, failing to see any humour in the situation. Two-Bit grins at me and I glare back.

"Kid," He drawls slowly. "I know you didn't come here today just to order a glass of water."

I blush despite myself. "Yeah well I uh…left my wallet at home." I stammer, knowing that Two-Bit won't believe me before the words have even left my mouth. He's almost as good at catching my lies as Soda is.

"Uh huh." Two-Bit says suspiciously, proving my point. But luckily for me, he decides to play along. "But shoot kid, you don't gotta worry about that. I'm paying!"

I snort with laughter. "Oh yeah? And how you gonna do that? You ain't got no more money than I do!"

"I do too!" He yelps defensively and I laugh again. The waitress appears with our drinks, banging them down on the table slightly harder the necessary. Two-Bit beams at her as she stalks off.

"What did you do, rob a bank?" I ask, sipping my pepsi and savouring the feel of the bubbles on my tongue.

"Nah kid, you know that's not my style. Too much like hard work. I saw my dad at the weekend. He gave me forty bucks to make up for being such a deadbeat my whole life." Two-Bit shrugs in response to my raised eyebrows, making out like it's not a big deal. "'Least he's good for something."

The waitress brings our food over then so I'm saved from answering, although I'm touched that Two-Bit wants to spend his money on me, especially when his dad gave it to him. That man hasn't given Two-Bit anything his whole life. The waitress practically slams our plates down and Two-Bit winks suggestively at her. I'm just about to remind him about Kathy when my burger is placed in front of me and I forget about everything else. It's so long since I've had a hot meal…

"Woah kid, slow down will ya! That burger ain't going nowhere!" Two-Bit laughs as I shovel fries into my mouth. I smile at him and make an effort to slow down. "When's the last time you ate a proper meal kid? You're looking real skinny lately y'know. Ain't that brother of yours been feeding you?"

He means it as a joke but the question makes my stomach clench painfully and force myself to eat slower. "Of course he has, you know what Darry's like! I just skipped lunch today to catch up on some homework." At least that part is true, the only way I can keep myself from failing entirely is to work through lunch. Even then I'm only managing to scrape Es and Ds. I didn't even bother to read my last report card, let alone show it to Darry.

Two-Bit nods, but I know he's going to be watching me closely for the rest of the meal. Two-Bit's no fool, no matter what people say. "How are you and Kathy?" I ask eventually, hoping to distract him.

"Oh we broke up again." He says offhandedly, reaching for the ketchup. "But she smiled at me in the halls yesterday so I'm figuring on us being back together this time next week."

I nod in understanding. Two-Bit and Kathy are destined to be together and everyone can see it except them. They break up at least once a month (usually because of Two-Bit flirting with other girls, like our waitress) but Kathy always takes him back once he apologises. And, although he'd never admit it, Two-Bit really cares about Kathy which is a pretty rare thing to find in our neighbourhood. And Kathy's good for Two-Bit. She's calm and practical and manages to balance out his craziness. Kathy's blonde (although her hair's honey coloured, not bottle blonde like most girls around here) and slightly chubby but she's not mean or trashy and she can bake real good peach cobbler. She's the best Two-Bit's ever gonna get and he knows it.

We finish our meal and I promise Two-Bit I'll pay him back but he waves me away. He drops me off at home and doesn't ask to come in but he does notice Darry's truck sitting in the driveway.

"Shouldn't Darry be at work?" He asks.

"Nah, he works a different shift now." I feel guilty about lying to Two-Bit like that. I mean the guy just bought me dinner, the least I could give him in return is the truth. But I can't so instead I smile at him. "Thanks for the burger Two-Bit. And for bringing me home."

"Your welcome kid." Two-Bit mutters distractedly. When I glance over at him his eyebrows are all scrunched up like he's trying to figure something out. I quickly open my door to try and get out before he realises what it is. "Hey kid…" I stop and turn around to face him, perching back on the edge of my seat. Two-Bit is staring thoughtfully up at our house. For a second I wonder if he can see through the walls to what's inside, to Darry passed out on the couch and the empty beer bottles that litter the floor, but then I realise that's impossible.

"You ever need anything Ponyboy, don't hesitate to call alright? Or come round. Even if you just wanna talk about something or if you and Darry ain't getting along so good. Just let me know ok? I'll help you."

Two-Bit's speech is so sincere and so desperately what I've been waiting for someone to say that it almost makes me cry. But deep down inside I know that Two-Bit can't help me and Darry, no matter how much he wants to. Two-Bit's always so happy, he wouldn't understand the abyss of hopelessness Darry has fallen into and he wouldn't know how to make things better anymore than I do. But the fact that he's offered means more to me that he'll ever know so I smile and assure him that I will, just so he can feel better about things and go on believing that he's still a part of our lives. In reality, Two-Bit belongs to a different world now, and I can't pull him down into mine and Darry's new world anymore than he can pull me out of it.

I feel Two-Bit watching me as I walk up to our front door. I turn and wave, then watch him drive off before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

* * *

Later that night as I'm getting ready for bed I feel something square in the back pocket of my jeans. I wriggle my fingers in and pull out two dollar bills, one ten and one twenty. 

I stare at them for a minute before realising that Two-Bit must've slipped them in there without me noticing. Our meal had come to nine dollars and I realise with a sinking feeling that he's given me the rest of the money he got from his dad. I crawl into bed, the money still clenched tightly in my hand, and cry myself to sleep.

* * *

_Hey everybody. Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 10, I thought it was rubbish so it was a lovely surprise to get such a good response to it!_

_I got a few reviews asking about the other greasers so here's a Two-Bit chapter for you all. Steve is still in Vietnam at this point (I kinda had an idea that he and Soda went over to fight together - although I'm not sure why…) so he obviously won't be around but he might turn up later (as in much later) in the fic, I'm not really sure! _

_Quite a few of you seem to be wondering if/when Sodapop is going to be coming back. I don't want to give too much away but, as so many of you seem to want it, Sodapop Curtis could be making a return appearance (Deanaholic1 - I'm liking you're idea a lot). But it won't be for quite a while and things are going to get worse for Darry and Pony before that happens. I think it would be kinda unrealistic to have Soda come back and suddenly everything is ok again. Plus this story isn't really about Sodapop, it's more a look at the Darry/Pony relationship and what happens when it's pushed to its limits. _

_Ms. Curtis - I really have no idea how long this story is going to be. I have it planned out up to chapter 15 but after that…who knows! I might have to do a sequel if it starts to get too long, but we'll see how it goes. _

_Anony. Lover - I originally hadPony having a big freak out at the end of chapter 10 but I felt having Pony just saying/doing nothing was more poignant. I'm kinda of working along the line that Pony (as well as Darry) is going through denial at the moment, like Pony believes if he can just be the best brother in the world and look after Darry well enough things will eventually work out. I think he's gonna be getting a wake up call pretty soon though. But you're right, he does need to break down and he will, just not yet. _

_Sorry about the ridiculously long AN, but please read and review and let me know if you've got any questions or ideas. I love hearing from you guys!_


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning I fished out the stack of bills I'd shoved under the couch and forced myself to look through them, sorting them into piles based on necessity and importance. By the time I was finished I'd unconsciously chewed my fingernails down to painful crescent-moon slivers and come to the miserable conclusion that even if me and Darry didn't eat for a month, we still couldn't afford to pay off all our bills. Two-Bit's thirty dollars had seemed like the solution to all our problems when clutched in my hand last night but in the harsh light of morning it was nothing compared to the hundreds of dollars we owed. How Darry ever managed to balance it all was beyond me. 

In the end I gave up and shoved twenty dollars in an envelope for the gas people and paid ten dollars towards the electricity bill simply because they'd written the most threatening letters. Deep down I knew it probably wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference, they were demanding hundreds and a measly twenty dollars hardly made a dent in it, but I pretended to myself that everything would be ok and consoled myself with the knowledge that dad had managed to pay off the mortgage before he died. At least no one could take our house away from us. 

Despite finding comfort in this thought, I couldn't delude myself completely. I knew I had to find a way to get money, and fast. It was no use relying on Darry, I'd have to do it myself. I was too young to get a job, no one wanted to hire a thirteen year old greaser kid no matter how many times I promised not to rob them, and there was no way we could start claiming welfare benefits without social services getting involved. One summer Soda had made some money mowing neighbours' lawns, but no one wanted their grass cut in the winter. I could borrow money off someone, except I didn't know anyone with money to spare. Everyone around here lived pretty close to the breadline. 

After half an hour of racking my brains but coming no closer to reaching a solution I left the room and climbed back into bed, unable to sit on the couch and imagine the ticking time bombs underneath its' cushions any longer. I lay staring up at the ceiling, my stomach a churning mess of worry and anxiety. I must've fallen asleep eventually because when I next opened my eyes the shadows on the ceiling had moved. I remained on my bed for a moment, consumed by the feeling that something wasn't right. I sat up slowly and felt the room spin before I threw up all over the comforter. 

At first I'd thought I was only gonna be sick once. I'd stripped the covers off my bed and bundled them into the bathroom, intending to rinse them off in the bath. Just as I'd knelt down by the tub, my stomach had lurched again and I'd only just managed to lean over the toilet in time. This had continued relentlessly for three hours straight until I felt too weak to even sit up. Occasionally there were tantalisingly short but desperately needed breaks in between, where I could try and clean myself up and catch my breath before being forced to slump back over the toilet and puke my guts up once more. Once there was nothing left in my stomach I dry-heaved, feeling like my whole body was trying to turn itself inside out. Every so often I'd throw up something yellow and viscous which I recognised as bile due to advanced biology last semester. 

In between bouts of vomiting I'd called hoarsely for Darry, at first requesting a glass of water but eventually just wanting him to be there. He hadn't come though, despite being just a few feet away in his room down the hall. I think he was too hung-over to get up. 

He eventually finds me curled up on the bathroom floor three hours later. He looks annoyed at first, he probably needs to use the can and I'm blocking his way, but his face pales as the smell of vomit hits his nostrils. He crouches down beside me, placing a big heavy hand against my forehead. I try to hide my face from him, ashamed of my red eyes and streaming nose, but his hand feels nice and cool against my hot sweaty forehead. He starts to pull away and I grab at him, terrified that he'll leave me. 

"Jesus Ponyboy, you're burning up. Come on, get up off the floor. Lets go take you're temperature." He sighs deeply and I feel like I've disappointed him. 

"I can't." I whisper, the taste of vomit coating my mouth. I feel disgusting. Darry sighs again but reaches out and scoops me into his arms before standing up. My head spins sickeningly as he lifts me and I lean forward to rest it on Darry's shoulder but he pulls me back, holding me at arms length and looking at me critically. I stare guiltily down at my vomit spattered t-shirt.

"You think you're gonna throw up again?" Darry questions, eyeing me suspiciously. I shake my head even though I'm not really sure. Darry nods and finally pulls me close to him, although he's careful not to let the front of my t-shirt touch him.

When we get to the kitchen he sits me on the counter while he rummages around in the medicine cupboard. I grip the edge of the counter tightly, trying to find something solid to hold onto amidst the spinning room. After a minute Darry slides the thermometer into my mouth and I close my eyes to try and ease the nausea. 

"88.5." Darry reads out carefully after a moment and I crack my eyes open to watch him. He looks pretty awful, the dark bags under his eyes and day old stubble on his chin make him look old and weary. He runs a hand through his hair tiredly. "I think you'll live. I'll get you some aspirin then you can go back to bed ok? Try and sleep it off."

I nod my head, finding it to be the biggest mistake of my life. My vision blurs even worse than before, making the room bounce and sway before my eyes. I groan and lean my head back against the cabinets. I feel Darry press two pills into my left hand and hear him filling up a glass. I want to laugh and tell Darry that I'm gonna need at least seven tablets to shift this headache but my mouth feels so dry I can't grind the words out.

"Swallow them down." Darry instructs, standing in front of me again. I do as I'm told, taking the glass of water he hands me and swigging it around my mouth before swallowing. As soon as the liquid hits my stomach I know it's a mistake. 

I jerk forward almost immediately, both tablets shooting out of my mouth amidst a cascade of water. More stuff comes out too and I realise dimly that I'm puking up the lining of my stomach. Darry jumps out of the way just in time. 

"Oh for Christ's sake Ponyboy!" He yells, turning away from the mess on the floor to glare at me. "Jesus, I'm gonna have to clear that up now!"

"Sorry." I croak before my stomach clenches again and I double over, choking as more liquid erupts from my mouth. I feel myself starting to slip off the counter but Darry catches me before I fall, holding me against his chest and rubbing my back. I bury my face in his neck and start to cry. 

"Sshhh, it's ok, don't get yourself all worked up." Darry mutters, carrying me through into the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up ok?"

Holding me steady with one arm he drags the stained comforter out of the bath tub and throws it aside. He turns on the cold tap then sets me down on the floor, kneeling in front of me. He starts to undress me, first tugging off my ruined t-shirt then helping me step out of my jeans. He reaches for my underwear but I pull away from him, not wanting him to see me naked. He sighs tiredly, like I'm making things difficult for him and I quickly lean against him so he can't get up and leave. 

When the bath's ready he helps me climb in, pressing on my shoulders so I've no choice but to sit down. The cold temperature shocks me and I immediately try to get out again but Darry holds me still until I've grown used to it. 

"Tell me if you're gonna be sick again ok?" He says and I nod, watching as he runs a flannel over my chest. I let him wash me, feeling too exhausted to protest that I can do it myself. It's kinda nice anyway, this is the most attention he's given me in weeks. "I'm not really mad Ponyboy, I now you can't help getting sick. It's just…" Darry pauses, looking awkward, almost embarrassed. "I'm not feeling that well today either and…well you know."

I know what 'not feeling well' means, it's Darry's way of saying he's hung over. But I also know saying sorry has never come easy to Darry and that's probably as close to an apology as I can hope to get. 

"That's ok." I say quietly, screwing my eyes shut as Darry runs the cloth over my face. "I can clear everything up later…if you want."

Darry laughs at that and I find myself starting to feel a little bit better. "Nah you're alright kid, I think I can manage." He drapes the flannel over the side of the bath and looks at me. "Ok, I think you're done. Out you get. How are you feeling now?"

"Ok." I say as I stand up carefully, mindful of my dizziness. "I don't think I'm gonna be sick again."

Darry looks relieved. "I don't think you've got anything left to throw up Pone." He replies, grimacing slightly. Darry can cope with all the blood, guts and gore in the world, but vomit makes him cringe. Soda used to tease him about it mercilessly. My heart twinges painfully when I think of Soda and I suddenly wish he was here. Darry was trying his best, but it was Soda I really wanted. 

Once I'm out the bath Darry wraps me up in a big towel and leads me through to the living room. He settles me on the couch and disappears into the kitchen to clear up my sick. When he comes back in he has a beer in his hand but I'm so used to it and I feel so washed out that I don't even care. He sits with me on the couch instead of in his recliner and lets me rest my head in his lap. I can feel my eyelids getting heavy and I'm just about to fall asleep when the phone rings. Darry curses under his breath as my eyes snap back open and lifts me off him to go and answer it. 

"What?" He barks into the receiver, the tone of his voice making me glad I'm not on the other end of the line. I listen hard despite my tiredness, curious to see who it is. I'm always hoping, even though I know it's stupid, that one day we're going to get a call from the army, telling us that Soda's death was nothing but a terrible misunderstanding. There's always hope…

But Darry doesn't sound pleased, in fact he's not saying anything at all. He bites his lip, then glances over at me worriedly. When he sees me listening he presses the phone closer to his ear and turns away. 

"Yeah Tim I know ok, I know. But he's sick…no I mean proper sick, he's been spewing his guts up all afternoon. I think it's flu or food poisoning or something…yeah I know…well what am I supposed to do?" I clutch the towel tightly, pulling it closer to my body in an attempt to ward of the sudden chill that has passed over me. "What do you mean you wont pay me! Shit Tim that's not fair…I need it Tim! You don't understand…yeah ok…ok I'll see you at eight…bye."

"Bastard!" Darry slams the receiver back into the holder. I flinch even though it's not me he's mad at. Darry runs his hand through his hair before turning to face me. His eyes look guilty and, as he slowly makes his way over to me, I know I won't like what he's going to say. He crouches next to the couch. "Ponyboy, I need to go to work."

* * *

_I know that was a really bad place to end this chapter but I need help from you guys. I've got two possible directions and I can't decide which one to use. _

_1) Darry takes Ponyboy to work with him. Buck's is not a good place for a sick 13 year old kid and Pony meets some pretty shady characters. He also gets to see Darry at work (which may not be a good thing considering it invovles beating people up). _

_or_

_2) Darry leaves Ponyboy at home and his illness gets worse. He calls Two-Bit who takes him back to his house where Ms Matthews looks after him. When Darry picks Ponyboy up the next day he's pretty mad. _

_So let me know which one you'd prefer to read and I'll write which ever senario gets the most votes. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter with sick Ponyboy and almost-normal Darry! Thanks for the reviews and Happy Easter. _


	13. Chapter 13

I swallow thickly, not sure how to react. "What about me?" I whisper eventually, hating how pathetic I sound.

"Well…" Darry says slowly, dragging the word out like he's stalling for time. "You'll just stay here like normal ok?"

_No Darry, it__s not ok. Nothing is ok. _

"But…but I'm sick." I stammer, feeling panicked. _Darry wouldn__t really leave me here...__would he? _"What if something happens?"

Darry sighs in exasperation, like I'm deliberately trying to make things hard for him. "Come on Pone, gimme a break here. It's only for a few hours. You'll be fine…you know you will."

He reaches out to stroke my hair but I jerk angrily away from him, throwing myself over onto my side. If I look at him for one minute more I'm gonna start crying. "Fine then! Lay there and pout, see if I care!" He snaps, cross that I'm not taking this lying down like I've done with all the other crap recently.

"Fine!" I yell back, crossing my arms over my chest and feeling suddenly rebellious. "I don't see why you're going to work anyway…it's not like you're earning any money!"

The couch jolts violently as Darry kicks it before standing up and storming away, his footsteps thudding towards the kitchen. I hear him fall heavily into a kitchen chair and imagine him running his hand over his face in frustration. I wriggle further down into the couch, clutching my towel tightly and hiding my face in the cushions. A heavy silence descends over the room, broken only by the ticking of the kitchen clock. Several times I think about giving up and apologising, but I've got every right to be upset. He's the one who's leaving, he should be apologising to me!

Eventually I hear him start to move around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and turning on the kitchen tap. I stubbornly refuse to turn around, even though I'm curious about what he's doing. When I feel him kneel down beside me I finally give into my curiosity and turn to face him. He's holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of tablets in the other. I stare up at him confused.

"Shove up." He instructs, signalling for me to move further down the couch with a jerk of his head. I wriggle forward awkwardly and he sits down where my head used to be, pulling me upwards until I'm resting against his chest. He holds out the pills and I take them into my hand and examine them closely. I don't know what they are, but they're definitely not aspirin.

"What are they?" I ask, looking up at him.

"Just something I found in the medicine cabinet." Darry says vaguely, holding the glass close to my mouth, ready to wash them down. "They'll make you feel better - I promise."

He nudges the hand that holds the pills, encouraging me to put them in my mouth. I hesitate for a moment, feeling that something isn't right. But Darry nods his head in response to my questioning look and I tell myself that Darry would never do anything to hurt me, no matter how much he's changed. I take a deep breath and place the tablets onto my tongue, keeping my eyes locked on Darry the whole time. He holds the glass up to my lips, tipping the cold, soothing liquid into my mouth. I try to swallow the pills down but they lodge in the back of my mouth, much larger and a different shape than I'm used to. I want to spit them out but Darry tips my head back, gently running his thumb up and down my throat to encourage me to swallow. I eventually manage to force them down and Darry looks relieved.

"Good boy." He praises after he's checked my mouth to make sure I'm not hiding them under my tongue or anything. I shift uncomfortably against him, not feeling the comforting glow I usually get from Darry's praise. Darry leans down and places the glass of water on the floor before pulling me tighter against him. He moves his arm down from my shoulders to wrap around my waist and guides my head against his chest. He starts to rub circles over my belly, his hand heavy and comforting through the towel. I feel myself unconsciously relax into him.

After a while my eyelids grow heavy and my head starts to droop. I try and force myself to stay awake - if I don't fall asleep, maybe Darry won't leave - but my muscles don't seem to be co-operating with my brain. I groan in frustration, arching my back to try and sit up. Strong hands force me back down, guiding me firmly until I'm laying down flat. I feel something scratchy rub against my cheek and, after a minute of fighting through the thick fog that has settled inside my head, realise that I'm resting on Darry's knees. At least he's still here. I roll over onto my back just to make sure, squinting up at the blur I believe to be his face.

"Darry?" I mumble.

"Sshhh, go to sleep Ponyboy. You're tired." Darry's voice sounds impossibly far away but I can feel the pressure of his hand gently stroking my hair. He's right, I am tired. But there's something I need to ask him first, something important…

"Darry?" I ask again, raising my hand to try and touch him. I feel like I'm sinking, slowly, slowly... "You're gonna be here when I wake up right?"

Darry doesn't say anything, just reaches down and brushes my eyelids closed. Unable to fight it anymore, I slide into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

When I wake up the house is cold, dark and silent. Snippets of past conversations and hazy, half-formed images slowly weave together until I finally remember why I'm laying on the couch wrapped in a towel. _Darry...__work...__tablets..._

I feel groggy, confused and scared. My head rests against a pillow that has replaced Darry's knees and I slowly become aware of it throbbing painfully. I concentrate hard on the other parts of my body, flexing my toes and gingerly stretching my legs until the feeling starts to come back. Everything feels heavy, like my limbs have turned to led. My head swims when I stand up and my body aches, like I haven't moved it for a long time. I have no idea how long I've been asleep but the sky is pitch black behind the window pane so I know it's late.

I can tell the house is empty, can feel it in the stillness of the air and heavy blanket of silence, but I force myself to look for him anyway. I search every room twice, my movements slow and sluggish, not wanting to accept the truth. I do crazy things like check inside closets and under beds in case he's hiding from me. I can't seem to think straight, my mind feels drowsy and lethargic even though I can feel panic pounding in my chest. I want to rush around frantically searching but I can't get my legs to work properly. Each step is a big effort, like I'm wading through honey.

Eventually, I run out of places to look. I slump down miserably at the kitchen table, finally admitting to myself what I knew was true all along; _Darry__s not here. _The words vibrate inside my head, seeming to swell bigger and bigger until I can't think of anything else. _How could he just leave me like that?_ I'm so preoccupied with thinking of Darry I don't notice the feelings of nausea clawing at my stomach until it's too late. I lean forward and vomit all over the kitchen floor for the second time in twenty-four hours.

I straighten back up shakily, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. _Please God not again, I can__t go through this again. _I get up and, after waiting a few seconds for the dizziness to pass, shakily make my way to the phone. I stand there hopelessly, the receiver clutched in my hand and one finger poised to dial a number that I don't know. I've never had to phone Buck's before - shoot I've only ever set foot inside the place a handful of times - and I have absolutely no idea, not even a vague notion, of what his phone number could be. I could look it up in the phone book but the idea of poring over columns of ridiculously small numbers make my already pounding head throb painfully. Darry probably wouldn't come back anyway…he made it pretty clear where his alliances lie when he left me here. But there's no one else to ring…

Unless…

* * *

I drum my fingers nervously against my leg as I wait for someone to pick up. I've known Two-Bit pretty much my whole life, yet I can count the number of times I've phoned his house on one hand. Two-Bit used to be such a permanent fixture at our house there was never really any need to -

"'Lo?" I breathe a sigh of relief as Two-Bit's voice crackles down the line. I'm not sure what I would've done if his mom or sister had picked up, or worse if no one answered at all…

"Hey Two-Bit. It's Ponyboy."

"Ponyboy?" Two-Bit sounds tired and confused, and I imagine him rolling over in bed to look at his Mickey Mouse alarm clock before continuing. "It's late kid…whaddya want?"

"I don't feel good Two-Bit." I say quietly, careful not to let the sentence descend into a whine. There's some rustling on the other end of the line as Two-Bit sits up in bed and he sounds more alert when he replies.

"What do you mean you don't feel good? What's wrong Pony? You sick?" Concern has crept into Two-Bit's usually jovial voice and I feel a little guilty about worrying him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea…

"Yeah I'm sick." I almost whisper, not liking the loudness of my voice in the silent house.

"Where's Darry? Isn't he there with you?"

"No he's…he had to go to work." I admit, too exhausted to make up a plausible excuse for Darry's absence. Besides, I'm sick of lying…

"He's at work? Who in blue hell gets their roof tiled at 1 o'clock in the morning?!"

"No he's not roofing. He's at…he's at his other job." Two-Bit must've picked up on the awkwardness in my voice because he doesn't push the matter.

"And he's just left you there all on your lonesome? Does he know you're sick? Have you rung him or anything?" Two-Bit sounds agitated and flustered, firing one question after the other until it's hard to keep track of them all.

"I don't know where he is." I cry eventually, just to shut him up. I'm starting to feel sick again, my stomach swirling ominously. "I don't know…"

"Ok kid, it's ok, don't get upset." Two-Bit sooths, obviously catching on to the fact that I'm getting pretty near breaking point. "I'm uh…lemme think a minute…I'm gonna come and get you ok? I'll wake mom up and you can come back to our place for the night and she'll look after you. How's that sound eh?"

"What about Darry?" I ask timidly, knowing that my brother will freak out when he comes home and finds me missing.

"We'll leave him a note." Two-Bit snaps with a bitterness usually reserved for Socs and his father.

"Ok." I agree after a minute, the prospect of company and care too tempting to pass up. "I'll wait for you on the porch ok?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Two-Bit assures me. I hang up and immediately head towards the linen closet. I look out the only decent pair of pyjamas I own and quickly pull them on. Me and my brothers usually just slept in our t-shirts and underwear but my Great Aunt Gladys had sent each of us a pair of pyjamas a couple of Christmases ago and we used them for special occasions such as staying round someone else's house or if we had guests. The pyjamas were a few inches too short for me now, but I wasn't about to turn up at Two-Bit's house in just my underwear. Two-Bit wouldn't mind but his mom and sister might be a little shocked. I shove my feet into my converses, not bothering to undo the laces since Darry wasn't around to yell at me about breaking the back of my shoes, then grab my coat out of the closet before slipping outside to wait on Two-Bit.

* * *

I feel slightly anxious as Two-Bit's headlights spread two pools of light across our dishevelled front yard. I'm scared that things will be awkward between us, that I've asked him one favour too many. I don't think I could cope if I lost Two-Bit too…I watch as he climbs out and shoves his hands in his pockets, shivering against the cold. He catches sight of me huddled on the porch and bounds up the steps, immediately pulling me to my feet and holding me back to look me up and down critically.

"Jesus Pone, you coulda waited inside the house y'know. It's damn near freezing out here!" I shrug my shoulders and he shakes it head. "You all ready to go then? Got everything you need?"

"Like what?" I ask. The only thing I was thinking to bring was me, myself and I, but I had a habit of forgetting things…

"I dunno kid, whatever you usually have at night. Pyjamas and shit. Any medicine you need?"

I start to shake my head then suddenly remember something. "Wait there ok?" I tell Two-Bit, who had moved to follow me inside when I pushed open the door. "I'll just be a second."

Two-bit huffs but nods his head and I sigh in relief, not sure how I'd explain the empty beer bottles that litter our floor and cover every available surface. I run through to my room and grab Soda's old sweatshirt off the bed. I tuck it awkwardly under my arm as I walk back to meet Two-Bit, worried that he'll think it's a comfort blanket or something. It's not, I'm way too old for baby stuff like that, I just like to have it close sometimes; it's like my substitute Sodapop. But Two-Bit doesn't comment or tease when I step back out onto the porch with it stuffed in the crook of my arm, just claps his cold hand together and grins.

"Come on then Pone, lets split this joint!" As we walk over to his car he places one, strong hand on my shoulder.

_

* * *

_

I know I'm dragging this out, but you guys don't mind right? I mean I could ditch some of the details and get the story moving faster or I could keep the details and plod on at the same pace I've been going at? Which would you prefer?

_Wow, I got an amazing response to chapter 12! My reviews jumped from like 78 to 100 (although 12 of those reviews were from 'Edwards other bella' who reviewed every chapter from the beginning and who I will therefore love forever). It was a pretty unanimous decision for scenario 2 (big up the Two-Bit love!) so I hope everyone was pleased with the result. This was only part 1 though, part 2 will show Pony at the Matthews residence and Darry's reaction. _

_Edwards other bella - To answer your questions: Well Pony doesn't know how Two-Bit gave him the money so, as it's in his POV, the readers don't know either. However for arguments sake lets just say Two-Bit slipped it into Pony's pocket while distracting him with some story about a blonde. Was my math wrong? I had it in my head as their meal cost 9, Two-Bit gave Pony 30, then kept 1 for himself and that used up his 40. I might have typed the amounts wrongly in the chapter though, I'm too lazy to go back and check! The temperature thing, that was a typo. It was meant to be 98.5 - sorry about that. _

_HawkCade - Wow, thank you. That's one of the nicest (and most flattering) things anyone has ever said to me! Sadly, no I'm not. I'm 17 (although I know that didn't stop S.E Hinton!) and still at school but I'm glad you like my __similes and metaphors, I work hard on those so it's nice to know they don't go unnoticed!_

_I get the impression that lots of you are really eager for Soda to return and he will but, and I really can't stress this enough, it won't be for a long time. It's hard to explain without giving the whole story away but before he gets back, everything is going to change for Darry and Pony, and I mean change big time. And don't hold your breathe for Soda charging back in and saving everything (although I was quite tempted by your white stallion idea Unknown Brilliance!) because it's not happening I'm afraid. Sorry if anyone's disappointed. _

_So…um…review guys! Let me know your ideas and opinions and feel free to ask any questions. Oh, one last thing, was it clear what sorta tablets Darry gave Ponyboy? I'm pretty sure it was, but then my sister read it through and didn't get it so maybe I wasn't as clear as I thought. Let me know if you were confused in anyway and I'll do my best to clarify anything. _


	14. Chapter 14

Two-Bit is driving much more carefully than he usually does, flicking his indicator on when we turn a corner and slowing down for bends in the road. The speedometer dial hovers between 20 and 30 mph instead of it's customary 40 to 50 range and he keeps both hands securely on the wheel with no hint of steering with his knees. Usually I'd rib him about it, joke about how he's going soft in his old age, but my tired brain can't seem to generate anything remotely resembling a witty insult so I give up and just let him be. I'm kind of grateful for it anyway, I don't think my stomach could cope with Two-Bit's usual driving style.

Sighing tiredly, I turn my head to the side and rest my flushed cheek against the cool leather of the car seat. I feel mentally and physically exhausted, despite the fact that I only woke up about half an hour ago. Two-Bit's clock tells me it's half past one in the morning and, as it's the most reliable part of the car, I force myself to believe it. I can't believe I'd been asleep that long, I had no idea it was that late. If I'd known I wouldn't have…

"Shoot Two-Bit, I'm sorry for waking you up and dragging you outta bed like this. I wouldn't have rung ya if I'd known what time it was." Two-Bit waves away my apology without taking his eyes off the road.

"Don't worry about it kid, I'm glad ya called. Makes me feel needed ya know. Plus I don't like the idea of you being left in that house by yourself all night, whether you're sick or not. That's some bad parenting there is ya ask me."

"Darry's not a parent." I say before I can stop myself, realising how stupid that must sound. But I still don't think of him like that, even after all this time…he's still my brother first and my guardian second. I think that's one of the reasons me and Darry used to argue so much, he saw it as the other way around. I wish he still saw it that way.

"Hell, he's the closet thing you've got kid, and if he can't stand the heat…" Two-Bit trails off before he can say something he'll regret but his silence speaks volumes. "It's just…he's all you've got left ya know?"

Yeah I know alright. That's why I'm clinging to him like a captain clings to a sinking ship, feeling the water creeping closer and closer until…

"'Cept me." Two-Bit adds, so quietly I almost don't hear him over the drone of the engine. He turns and looks me square in the eye. "You still go me Ponyboy, and I sure as hell ain't going nowhere."

"Good." I whisper softly and imagine a little rust coloured dingy appearing on the horizon, not big or strong enough to tow me to safety, but trustworthy enough to keep my afloat while I catch my breath.

I smile at Two-Bit and he smiles back before punching me in the shoulder. We spend the rest of the drive cushioned in comfortable silence.

It's gloriously warm inside Two-Bit's house and I relish the fact that I can walk across the floor without tripping over a beer bottle. Ms. Matthews is standing beside the open kitchen window, dragging hard on a cigarette. Her face looks hard and tired in the harsh strip lighting and she doesn't turn around as we clomp inside.

"Two-Bit close the damn door already! You're letting all the heat out." She snaps at our reflections, knocking ash out onto the rough ground below the window.

"Alright ma, jeez! Gimme a second will you." Ms. Matthews doesn't react to Two-Bit's disrespectful tone but tension seeps into the room. It's always like this round Two-Bit's house, underlying currents of never discussed grievances drift tantalisingly below the surface of every conversation. I think it's one of the reasons Two-Bit likes…liked hanging out at our house so much.

I stand uselessly in the kitchen, not wanting to find myself on the receiving end of Ms. Matthews's acid-tipped tongue. Two-Bit kicks the door closed with a bang and Ms. Matthews flinches despite her ice queen exterior. He joins me in the kitchen a moment later and we both stand like statues, waiting for her to finish her cigarette and flick the butt carelessly out the window. I wish she'd hurry up because tendrils of exhausting are beginning to snake through my body and I'm not sure how long my legs can continue to support me. I eventually sag against Two-Bit, too tired to be embarrassed.

When Ms. Matthews does turn to face us I hardly recognise her. In all the time I've known Two-Bit I've never once seen her without her customary blue eyeshadow and red Marilyn Monroe lipstick, Steve once told me she even put it on even to take out the garbage. She has curlers in her hair, secured with a headscarf and the red polish that always adorns her long nails is chipped. She looks more real than I've ever seen her.

When her eyes, Two-Bit's eyes but without the spark of laughter, fall on me her brow wrinkles in what I assume is concern. She walks over to me and, without speaking, places her cool, rough hands against my forehead. She nods, as if confirming something in her mind before taking hold of my arm and guiding me over to the couch, pushing on my shoulders until I sit down.

"Tell me what's wrong sugar." She instructs, her voice husky from smoke inhalation. Two-Bit hovers awkwardly in the background, unsure what to do with himself. She cuts her eyes at him, like his very presence irritates her, but Two-Bit doesn't notice.

_Lady, you have no idea._ I think sarcastically, then feel bad afterwards. She's only trying to help…

"I keep being sick." I say lamely, unable to adequately express the hours I spent slumped over the toilet feeling like my body was trying to turn itself inside out. Ms. Matthews nods again.

"How many times?"

"I dunno…a lot. It lasted for about three hours, then Darry gave me some water but I threw that up too. Then I fell asleep but I got sick again after I woke up. That's when I decided to call you…" I trail off, feeling pathetic. When I said it aloud like that, it sounded like I was making a fuss about nothing…

Ms. Matthews looks at me closely for a long moment, rubbing her forehead absentmindedly. Then she reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I sniff self-consciously. "Have you felt dizzy at all?"

"Yeah, a little bit…when I move and stuff." Ms. Matthews nods like she was expecting my reply. She pulls me up from the couch and starts to unzip my coat, something in her suddenly seeming to come alive.

"Two-Bit make yourself useful and fetch me a glass of water. The go fix a cup of warm milk with a shot of whisky and mix in some honey to ease his throat." Ms. Matthews expertly tugs me out of my coat even though her head is angled towards Two-Bit. She throws it carelessly over the back of the couch before sitting down herself and pulling me with her. She settles me against her side like Darry had earlier and I let my body go limp, happy to let her take charge. She strokes my hair until Two-Bit hands her a glass of water, then she holds it up to my mouth and encourages me to take little sips. I close my eyes and will my head to stop spinning.

I don't open my eyes again until I feel hot steam on my face. Ms. Matthews pushes a cup into my hand and I drink down the warm, comforting liquid. The milk soothes my raw throat despite the kick of the whisky and I drain the cup. Ms. Matthews smiles for the first time that evening. I notice that she smells like jasmine soap and cigarettes.

"Two-Bit you get on back to bed now. Ponyboy's gonna be just fine." The shadow standing over us doesn't move.

"It's ok ma. I think I'm just gonna stick around for a bit. I'll sleep in the recliner or something." Ms. Matthews doesn't protest when the recliner squeaks under Two-Bit's weight. Instead she looks down at me.

"That'll send you straight to sleep honey. My mama swore by it. Now just close your eyes and you'll feel better in the morning. You don't have to worry no more." I'm so exhausted I allow myself to believe her.

* * *

I wake up to someone shaking me insistently. For a few confusing moments I forget where I am, but then Ms. Matthews ragged breathing triggers the memories dimmed by sleep. Someone has tucked a blanket around me and I fight to get my arms free. Two-Bit is leaning over me, one hand on my chest, the other on my shoulder. He looks worried.

"Two-" I start, then have to clear my throat to make my voice work properly. "Two-Bit? Whassa matter?"

"Pone, I know this is probably a bad time to be asking, but I need to know ok?" Two-Bit glances sideways at his mom before lowering his voice just in case. "Is everything ok at home?"

I stare at him for a moment, then lean my head back against Ms. Matthews and close my eyes again; having lost the ability to lie but still unable to tell the truth. What remains is a deep void of silence that I can't fight my way out of, no matter how much I want to. I hear Two-Bit take a deep breath and pray that he'll understand that I can't tell him. Not won't but can't.

"Ponyboy just…" He trails off, sighing tiredly. I feel my throat constrict with all the words I can't say. "Would you tell me if it wasn't?" He whispers eventually, bringing his head closer to mine. "Would you tell me if anything wasn't ok?"

I open my eyes and let him look into them for a moment before slowly shaking my head, the first honest to god truth I've told him since this whole mess began. And right at that moment, despite no words passing between us, Two-Bit knows. He doesn't know details, doesn't need to, but he understands that all the niggling feelings of uneasiness that he's been trying to ignore were in fact right and that there is something very wrong at the Curtis house.

I should feel relieved, _'a problem shared is a problem halved'_ my mom used to whisper when coaxing us to reveal playground secrets and childhood burdens, but the stricken look on Two-Bit's face has frozen my heart. For one horrible moment I think he's angry at me but his face suddenly crumples right before my eyes. I've never seen Two-Bit lose it before, not even when Johnny and Dally died, and I don't know what to do when a strangled sob erupts from his throat. He quickly turns away from me, slumping down so he's sitting on the floor with his back resting against the couch. He buries his face in his hands and draws deep, shuddering breaths.

Suddenly I realise just how much Two-Bit has lost in the past few months, how he's suffering just as much as I am. Everyone that I've lost, Two-Bit has lost too. In a way it must be worse for Two-Bit, he was always more a part of the gang than I was, relying heavily on the guys to make him feel valued and needed when his own mother failed to do so. And now there was nothing left. He didn't even have me and Darry anymore, we'd drifted away into a place that didn't include Two-Bit. He could call out to us and we'd reply, but he couldn't reach us to share our pain or stand beside us in solidarity. He was by himself, separated from us by his 'as good as but not family' status, condemned to watch but not join by whoever invented the saying "blood is thicker than water." We were slowly slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do, much in the same way Darry was sliding away from me.

"Fuck Ponyboy, why is it always us huh? What have we done to deserve all this shit?!" Two-Bit spits out suddenly, startling me from my thoughts. He's still facing away from me and I can see the tension trapped in his shoulders.

"I don't know." I reply truthfully, hearing the same questions that have plagued me on dark lonely nights come out of Two-Bit's mouth.

"Someone up there really must hate us huh?" Two-Bit mutters, gallantly attempting to pull himself together the only way he knows how. I smile sadly and decide to help him out.

"You and Soda probably pissed him off when ya dropped that hymn book." I reply sagely and Two-Bit chuckles, remembering the good times like I wanted him to. No one can take those away from us.

"Shit," he says after a moment, running a hand tiredly over his face then turning his head to look at me. "He sure knows how to hold a grudge don't he?"

I laugh to make him happy, because really, it's the least I can do. He gets stiffly to his feet, brushing down his pants as he stands. He looks slightly better now, his face more relaxed and his body less tense. He slowly ambles back over to the recliner, flopping down so heavily that it wobbles ominously.

"Night Pony." He calls, squinting to see me in the darkness.

"Night Two-Bit." I answer. We both fall asleep soon after, safe in the knowledge that, while we're both alone, we are at least alone together.

* * *

_Gah, horrible chapter! I've rewritten it about four times and I still don't like it. But I'm sick of it now so I've just decided to post it. Did I get Ms. Matthews's character down ok? I was trying to make her tough but kind at the same time, which was way harder than I thought it would be!_

_And did the ending make sense? I sorta added the bit about being lonely together on just before I posted the chapter and after I read it through I wasn't sure I made it clear or not. Oh and the sea/ship/dingy section I wrote towards the beginning of the chapter - you guys understood that right? And the bit about Two-Bit being unable to reach Darry and Pony becuase he's not family? Please feel free to ask questions and I'll do my best to explain - I think this whole chapter is a bit too cryptic for its own good!_

_Thanks for all the lovely reviews - I appreciate every single one. And I'm so glad you all seem to like the details - they're definitely staying. I'm not sure I could write this fic without them anyway…_

_Caspar Rainbow - Thanks for your review, I felt very flattered after reading it. :) Um in regards to your question, I haven't really decided about Steve. I don't think I'll have him die (although it would be interesting to see the effect that had on Soda) but I'm not sure whether he'll be coming back either, I might have him communicate with Soda through letters or something. _

_Skeledog Lover - Your review pretty much made my day when I read it. You've perfectly described the emotions that I'm trying to portray in this fic, so I must be doing something right! Either that or you're just incredibly perceptive… :)_


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning I wake up to Ms. Matthews smoking and Two-Bit snoring loudly in the recliner. My neck feels stiff and my stomach empty, but my head is no longer spinning.

"Morning sugar." Ms. Matthews calls from the kitchen, tapping her ashes into an empty coffee cup. She turns and leans against the counter, wrapping her robe more tightly around her and crossing her arms over her chest. "How are you feeling this morning? You want some breakfast? Bet you're feeling mighty hungry ri-"

A sudden, insistent knocking cuts her off mid-sentence. I sit up on the couch and watch as she walks across to answer the door, knowing who will be standing on the other side even before the door swings open.

"Good morning Darrel."

"Ms. Matthews." Darry greets coolly and my stomach clenches at the tone of his voice. He sounds pretty pissed. "I believe you've got something that belongs to me."

"Indeed I do." Ms. Matthews replies, keeping her tone clipped and even to match Darry's. She turns and waves me over. "Ponyboy honey, you're brother's here."

I stand up and slowly make my way over to the door, keeping my head down so I don't have to see the anger I know will be burning in Darry's eyes. I stand beside Ms. Matthews and she places her arm around me, pulling me against her side. I risk a quick glance at Darry and almost immediately duck my head again. _Yep, he's hoppin' mad alright._

_I'm sorry_, I plead with my slumped shoulders.

_You're in big trouble_, the bulging muscle on the left side of his jaw replies. I fight off the childish urge to cling to Ms. Matthews. She continues talking to Darry, oblivious to our silent exchange.

"Now I'm no doctor Darrel, but I'd put money on Ponyboy here having food poisoning. If I'm right it should be outta his system by now, but you might wanna keep him home from school for the next couple of days just in case. He's keeping down liquids but I haven't tried him on any food yet. Keep giving him water so he doesn't get dehydrated and keep a close eye on him for the next couple of days - I wouldn't leave him on his own too much if I were you." Darry nods dumbly, looking baffled and overwhelmed by all these instructions. "I was just about to start fixing him some breakfast. He's welcome to stay y'know, he's no trouble compared to my kids."

Ms. Matthews's request to let me stay longer seems to jerk Darry into action and he shakes his head adamantly. "No thank you, I think I'm just gonna take him home." He signals for me to come to him and I obediently step away from Ms. Matthews and over the threshold of their house. It's cold out on the porch and I shiver unconsciously.

"Oh Ponyboy don't forget your coat!" Ms. Matthews cries suddenly, reaching backwards to grab it off the couch. She tugs me back towards her and bundles it around me, zipping it right up to my chin. As soon as she's done, Darry pulls me possessively back towards him by my upper arm. Ms. Matthews frowns slightly.

Darry clears his throat awkwardly. "Well…thank you very much for having him Ms. Matthews. I hope he wasn't too much trouble…"

"No, no trouble at all." Ms. Matthews murmurs absentmindedly, her eyes flitting between me and Darry. Her frown deepens, creating a ridge between her eyes. Darry's grip tightens on my arm and I glance up at him nervously.

"Come on Pone." He mutters gruffly, turning away from Ms. Matthews's suspicious eyes and starting to tug me down the porch steps with him.

"Wait!"

Darry jerks to a stop so violently I nearly crash into him. A slick sweat has broken out on his brow and I watch a bead trickle down his hairline. He turns slowly back to face the house and after a second I do the same. Two-Bit has joined Ms. Matthews on the porch and they both stare down at us. Darry's gripping my arm so hard it hurts.

Two-Bit looks ruffled, his clothes crumpled and hair sticking up. He's evidently just woken up. At first he looks at both of us, but then his stare shifts critically to Darry. I wonder if Darry looks different in Two-Bit's eyes now that he knows our secret. Ms. Matthews is watching us closely too, hands on her hips and her frown now firmly fixed in place. I think she knows too, even though I haven't said a word to her. She must've figured it out when I wasn't looking. Two-Bit opens his mouth to say something but I manage to catch his eye before he begins to speak.

_Please don't take him away from me Two-Bit. Please…_

He closes his mouth with a click and I sigh in relief. Darry hears and looks at me sharply. I duck my head and bite my lip. Two-Bit clears his throat, glances at his mom, then ducks back inside the house. When he returns he's holding Soda's sweatshirt.

"Don't forget this kid." He says quietly, holding it out for me to take. I wriggle out of Darry's grasp and run up the porch steps.

"Thanks." I whisper and clutch it tightly to my chest, not caring if I look like a baby. I duck my head and pretend to wipe my nose, while subtly breathing in Soda's scent. I feel immediately calmer. When I look back up, Two-Bit smiles at me sadly. "And thanks for having me." I add on quickly, remembering my manners.

"You're welcome round here anytime honey." Ms. Matthews says seriously. "And I mean anytime ok?" I nod and smile gratefully at her, although I don't think I'll be taking up her offer. Not if Darry turns out to be half as pissed off as he looks.

She reaches out as if to hug me but Darry barks out "Ponyboy, lets go!" and she jumps back. I smile an apology at her but it doesn't ease her frown.

"Bye!" I call as I dash back down the steps to where Darry is waiting impatiently. I try to keep my voice upbeat and my smile carefree even though my insides are churning. Darry places his hand heavily on my shoulder and steers me out of their front yard.

"Don't you dare look back." He hisses out the corner of his mouth when I make a move to turn my head and wave goodbye to the Matthews. I swallow thickly and begin trying to think of ways to make him like me again.

* * *

"What the hell was that about Ponyboy?!" Darry explodes the minute we're out of earshot of the Matthews. He shoves me hard in the back and I stumble forward, only just managing to steady myself before I pitch face first onto the sidewalk. "Huh? What they hell were you playing at back there?"

"I…I don't know. I mean…I wasn't playing at anything." I stammer, feeling confused by his questions. He grabs hold of me again and swings me round to face him. He raises his hand and for one terrifying moment I think he's going to punch me, but he just reaches behind me and smacks me across the back of my head. Being the youngest in both my family and the gang, I'm pretty used to getting cuffed around the head but I've only ever experienced it as an affectionate, teasing gesture. Therefore I'm completely unprepared for the pain that erupts at the base of my head. My ears start to ring and yellow lights dance in front of my eyes as I clutch desperately at Darry's shirt to try and stop things from spinning. Tears sting my eyes but I blink them away.

I look up at Darry and he stares back down at me for a moment before taking hold of my hands and pushing me roughly away from him. "Get off me." He snaps angrily. For a minute I'm too hurt to react, then I let the tears spill from my eyes.

Darry half drags, half carries me over to the truck and roughly shoves me inside before slamming the passenger door so hard the windshield rattles. He climbs in himself and immediately starts yelling again.

"God you're such a baby sometimes Ponyboy. I can't even leave you alone for a few hours while I'm working! Maybe I should start treating you like one huh? Should I take you home and give you a bottle then put you to bed? Or maybe you don't wanna go home? Maybe I'll just take you down town and drop you off at social services eh? You obviously don't wanna stay with me. Why else would you call Two-Bit? You want them to take you away from me don't you?! Don't you!" He screams in my face, eyes wild and teeth bared. I shake my head and mouth the word _no_ over and over, too scared and shocked to say it out loud.

I press myself against the car door, trying to put as much distance between Darry and myself as possible. Darry reaches over and grabs Soda's sweatshirt out of my arms. "What's this anyway? You got a cuddle blanket now as well?" He sneers, holding it up.

"Give it back!" I shout, suddenly finding my voice. I try to snatch it back but Darry holds it just out of my reach and shakes it out. His face goes deathly white when he recognises it as belonging to Sodapop. I start to shake unconsciously.

"Where did you get this?" He hisses, bunching the sweatshirt up in his fist.

"From the drawer." I whisper stupidly.

"You don't touch his stuff, you understand me! Jesus, haven't you got any respect at all?!" He yells and I gape at him, unable to say a word because that's just so unfair. Sodapop means everything to me and Darry knows it. How can he say something like that?

Before I get the chance to defend myself Darry balls up the sweatshirt and throws it over the back of the seats. I sit up to try and get it back but he smacks me hard on my side. I slump back down in my seat and try to calm myself down. I'm crying so hard my chest hurts and I can't seem to breathe properly. I wonder stupidly what Darry would do if I passed out. Maybe he'd just leave me...

After a moment of quiet, Darry jerks the key in the ignition, jams the truck into gear and pulls away from the curb with a squeal of tires. "Put you're goddamn seatbelt on." He barks and I jump to do as I'm told, hoping that he's run out of steam and isn't going to yell anymore. My luck runs out about half way home.

"How would you like it Ponyboy if you came home one day and I wasn't there?" Darry's yell is so loud and unexpected I jerk sideways and smack my elbow against the truck door. Pain sears down my arm but I clamp my mouth shut to keep from crying out. "Maybe that's what I'll do, just pack up and leave one day while you're at school and you can see how you like it!"

Even though I don't believe he'd just leave me like that, his words plant a seed of fear that wedges itself deep in my heart. I know that from now on every time I leave the house I'll be scared that Darry won't be there when I get back and I hate him for it.

"That's not fair!" I cry, cutting him off before he can say anything else. He's got this strange look on his face and I almost feel like he's enjoying seeing me upset. "I'm the kid and you're the adult, you're supposed to look after _me_!"

"I'm twenty-one years old Ponyboy, I'm not _supposed_ to be looking after anyone!" Darry bellows, slamming his hand into the steering wheel.

I curl up in my seat, clap my hands over my ears and clamp my eyes shut, wishing I could just disappear. Even though I know that's what Darry has been wanting to say all along, probably ever since mom and dad died, it still hurts to hear it. I'd thought things were better after Windrixville, that he'd started to get used to me and, hell, maybe even like me a little bit, but I guess I was wrong. Darry didn't want to be stuck looking after me and now that Soda wasn't around to make him ... I dig my fingernails into my scalp to stop myself from thinking anymore. The jolt of pain provides me with a welcome distraction and is a more preferable alternative than having to face up to the reality of my crappy life. I know I can cope with physical pain, that it will eventually fade away to nothing more than a dull ache, whereas I've never been very good at dealing with the unescapable, life shattering effects of the truth.

I don't know how long I stay like that, lost in my own misery and despair, but I don't open my eyes again until I feel Darry shaking me.

"Come now, stop crying. Sit up and take you're hands off your ears, you look like you're having a fit or something! That's it, now wipe you're face. Look at you, you're a mess." Although he's far from sympathetic, Darry doesn't sound as angry as he did earlier and he helps me sit myself up. I give him a small smile of thanks but when he sees it his face suddenly turns hard again, like I've just reminded him that he's supposed to be mad at me. I silently curse myself for never knowing when to leave well enough alone. "You're grounded Ponyboy, you're not leaving my sight until I say so understand! Jesus, I thought I cold trust you! I thought you were the one person…"

He trails off, shaking his head in disgust. I turn away from his disappointment and stare out the window, deciding to take my own advice for once and let him be. I catch sight of my reflection in the wing mirror. Darry's right - I do look a mess. My eyes are red and swollen from crying, my eyelashes clumped together with moisture and my cheeks sticky from tears.

_Jesus, no wonder Darry doesn't want me._

* * *

As soon as we pull into our driveway Darry jumps out of the truck like he can't get away from me quick enough. I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window and try to pretend that everything is ok. I've almost managed to convince myself when Darry yells for me to get inside. My daydream shatters instantaneously.

"Ponyboy, get in here. Now!" I give up on pretending and slip out of the truck. I take a deep breath when I reach the porch and look up at the sky one last time before pushing open the door. I have a feeling it's the last daylight I'll be seeing for a while.

When I step inside I realise how shabby our house is compared to Two-Bit's. It's dark and dusty and smells bad, like it's stale or something. I immediately wish I was back outside. I can't see Dary but I can hear him in the kitchen. I walk across the living room and watch him from the doorway. He's struggling to open a bottle of beer, pulling and twisting the bottle opener but he can't seem to hold it steady. He catches sight of my reflection in the window and spins around to face me.

"About fuckin' time. Get over here and open this for me, stupid thing won't budge." He holds out the bottle for me to take and I push myself away from the doorframe.

But I can't open the bottle any better than Darry could. My hands are too small to properly grasp the bottle opener and it keeps slipping out of my grip. I know Darry's watching me and can feel him getting more and more wound up and impatient after each failed attempt. Nerves make me clumsier than usual and eventually the bottle opener slips, cutting across my thumb and leaving a bloody gash in it's wake. I yelp in shock and pain, letting it fall to the floor. Darry lunges forward and grabs the beer out of my other hand before I drop that too.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" He yells, glaring daggers at me as I cradle my throbbing thumb. "Can't you do anything right? Look at my fucking hands Ponyboy, look at them!" He shoves them in front of my face and I can see them shaking. "I didn't drink all last night 'coz I knew you were at home sick, and what do I find when I get back? A goddamn empty house! I just need one fucking beer Ponyboy, is that too much to ask?!"

I shake my head as I feel tears start to sting my eyes again. Darry's really scaring me now, waving his arms around and getting more and more agitated. In desperation I grab the bottle back from him, not knowing how else to calm him down. I shove the neck into my mouth and bite down hard on the top, trying to pry it off with my teeth like I'd watched Two-Bit and Dally do. The bottle top feels cold and hard against my teeth and it hurts when I pull at it. It takes me several attempts but I eventually manage I yank it off. One of the jagged edges of the bottle top cuts the roof of my mouth and I slosh some beer on the floor in shock.

"Darry here! It's ok, I've done it!" I yell, holding out the bottle. He shuts up immediately and grabs the beer from my hand, downing it in two gulps. He sighs in relief once he's swallowed and wipes a hand across his sweaty forehead. I stand where I am, watching him nervously and dripping blood onto the kitchen floor.

"Good." He says shortly, looking me up and down. "At least you're not completely useless. Now get in the living room."

* * *

_Hey everybody, hope you enjoyed that chapter (even though it was sad). Once again I hated it, but I'm sick of rewriting it so I'm just gonna put it up! Any help/ideas/advice would be greatly appreciated! What parts worked and which didn't? Am I making Darry too mean? _

_Thanks for the reviews - they make me happy! We're coming close to a big plot development soon (and I mean big!) so stick with me guys! Um...yeah, let me know what you thought and I love hearing from you guys! So see you next update!_


	16. Chapter 16

"Sit there and don't even think about moving." Darry barks, pushing my shoulders down and forcing me to sit on the floor in front of the couch. At first I think he's putting me in time out, trying to prove his point by treating me like a baby. I fold my arms tightly across my chest and set my jaw defiantly, determined to wait him out and not to let him beat me. Darry lies down on the couch behind me and opens another bottle of beer. For the rest of the day, neither of us moves.

When the sun starts to set Darry staggers to his feet and jerks his head for me to do the same. I smile widely, thinking I've won but Darry just smirks and grabs my arm. He drags me down the hall and into my room, squeezing my upper arm tightly like I'm going to make a break for it right there in the hallway. I struggle but he doesn't let go until we're standing in the centre of my bedroom.

I stare up at him reproachfully, rubbing my arm and waiting for him to say something. But he just shakes his head sadly before walking out. He closes the door behind him and, after a moment of heavy silence, I hear the scrape of a key turning in the lock.

"Darry?" I call uncertainly, taking a tentative step forward. "Darry what are you doing?" When he doesn't answer me I try the door handle. It turns, but the door doesn't open.

"Darry!" I shout again, twisting the knob backwards and forwards. "Darry what's going on? Lemme out!" I jam my shoulder against the door, trying to open it by force. My shoulder rams into the hard wood but the door doesn't budge. "Darry lemme out! I wanna come out now. Look, I'm sorry about Two-Bit…I'll be good, I promise. Just let me out! Please!"

I press my ear against the door and listen to the silence stretching beyond it. "Darry?" I whisper desperately, terrified that he's already left me and I've been pleading with nothing but air.

After a long minute I hear his voice. "You've gotta stay in there Pone. I'm sorry but it's for your own good - "

"Darry no!" I shout, cutting him off. _He's not leaving me locked in here, he's not…_

"You're safe here Ponyboy. You can come out when I get back from work. Try and get some sleep ok? You won't even realise after a while."

I hear his footsteps start to walk away.

"Darry? DARRY! No, Don't leave me here! Darry, please!" I start beating against the door with my fists, my throat constricting with panic. A terrified sob rips out of me as tears burn my cheeks like scolding liquid.

I cry and plead and fight until I hear the front door slam shut, then suddenly all the fight leaves me. I sink to the floor like a balloon that's lost it's helium and sob into my knees. The feeling of panic is overwhelming and for a moment I think I'm going to faint, but then it passes, leaving nothing but emptiness in it's wake. I don't know how much time passes before I muster up enough energy to pick myself up from the floor, but by the time I do I've resigned myself to my fate.

I lie on my bed for a while, willing myself to fall asleep, but after sitting still all day my body feels restless and jittery. Every little noise makes me jump. After a while I get up and walk round and round my room until I'm so sick of it I can hardly stand it. Then I crawl into the wardrobe and close my eyes like I used to do when I was little and looking for Narnia. Coat sleeves and pant legs brush my face and shoulders and I eventually fall asleep amidst their familiar presence.

The next morning the terror disappears the moment I hear the scraping of the key in the lock and I'm so glad to see Darry I forget about everything else. I run to him and hug him hard, stupidly thinking that everything is ok again now. I've passed the test and proved I'm not going to runaway again, so now Darry will forgive me. But Darry doesn't return my hug. For a brief moment I feel his hand brush against the back of my hair, but then he grips my arm and marches me through to the living room. And the whole process begins again.

* * *

This routine continues for six days and nearly kills us both. I feel like I'm slowly dying inside, losing a little bit of myself each day I'm stuck in the house. I spend the days staring longingly as the sunlight shining through the window, watching the illuminated dust particles spin to pass the time. My muscles throb from lack of use and my stomach aches permanently, begging for something to digest. But there's no food in the house, not even the week old can of tuna that gave me food poisoning in the first place. I threw that out on the first day when Darry was in the bathroom so I wouldn't be tempted to eat it later on.

Darry doesn't seem to be faring any better than I am. His once iron-like belly has expanded into a beer gut and his skin bears a sallow, yellowish tinge from lack of sunlight and too much beer. His moods veer up and down depending on how much he's had to drink and he can go from hugging me to pushing me to the ground and screaming at me in a matter of seconds. After the fourth day I learn not to react anymore and retreat inside my head, not coming out unless Darry's voice calls me.

He no longer hides his drinking from me and day after day I watch him drown his sorrows bottle by bottle.

"Wanna know what my secret hangover cure is Pone?" He slurs on the third day, waving a bottle of beer around and grinning sloppily.

"No." I say quietly, but he either doesn't hear me or choices to ignore my reply because he tells me anyway.

"More booze!" He yells, sloshing beer onto the couch cushions. "And that's a secret you can take right to the bank!"

I don't bother to reply.

On the fourth day Darry teaches me how to pour shots. He'd brought back a bottle of Jack Daniels from Buck's the night before and decided he wanted to drink it "the proper way". We use egg cups instead of proper shot glasses and for a little while it's fun. Darry pretends to be a drunk customer and I play the barman, and for a short time I'm reminded of how Darry used to play make-believe with me when I was real little, before he got so into football. But after five or six drinks Darry's not pretending anymore and he's stopped laughing and started getting mean. After I pour the ninth shot I deliberately drop the whisky bottle on the floor. It shatters and the remaining drink spills out onto the carpet. I cut my finger trying to pick up the glass and Darry slaps me for being so clumsy. I burst into tears and Darry doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day, but at least he can't drink anymore whisky.

"Darry…I need to go outside." I plead on the fifth day. I'm so weak I can barely keep my eyes open yet I can't stop shaking. My body's dying as well as my mind.

"No. You're safe here Ponyboy. You're going to stay here with me where you're safe." Darry mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sun.

"But I can't breathe in here." I whisper as hot salty tears slide down my face. Darry turns over on the couch and pretends not to hear me.

On the sixth day the school ring to ask why I haven't been at school all week. I tell them I've had food poisoning but I'm better now. They say they look forward to seeing me tomorrow.

"Darry I have to go back to school tomorrow." I tell him as I settle back down in front of the couch. There's a little worn spot on the floor where I've fidgeted too much. For a long time Darry doesn't say anything and I'm just about to repeat myself when he clears his throat.

"I'm dropping you off and picking you up." He snaps crossly. I'm so relieved that he's going to let me go I don't even mind that I'm still not trusted enough to get myself to and from school.

* * *

Darry drops me off at the school gates the next morning, glowering something awful.

"You get your ass out here soon as school lets out, understand? I'm gonna be sitting right here waiting so don't even think about going off with Two-Bit or anything. You hear me Ponyboy?"

"Yeah Darry, I hear you." I assure him as I jump out of the truck, trying to placate him as much as possible. He's looking pretty edgy and uncomfortable and I wanna make sure I get away before he changes his mind and makes me go home again. "I'll be here at 3 o'clock. I promise."

I start hurrying up the steps, clutching my books tightly in anticipation and trying not to look too excited. I can't describe how great it feels to breathe in clean, fresh air and feel the breeze against my face. Every fibre of my being tingles, like it's slowly waking up. I'm just starting to get used to the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet when Darry calls my name.

"Ponyboy." For a second I consider pretending to not hear him, but I'm afraid he'll come after me if I don't turn around. I send a silent, desperate prayer up to God as I slowly turn back to face the truck. _Please don't make me go back with him, not yet…_

Darry's rolled down his window and is leaning out of it, his face old and weathered amongst the sea of young, fresh faces swarming into school. He looks awkward when I meet his eyes and quickly drops his gaze.

"I love you." He mouths suddenly, but miraculously I manage to make out the words. He looks relieved after he's said it, like he's been wanting to tell me that for a while.

"I love you too." I say out loud, looking directly at him. A girl walking past me shoots me a strange look but I don't care, because at that moment me and Darry are the only two people in the world. Darry smiles and I smile back before turning to push my way through the school doors.

Everything looks brighter and sounds louder as I fight my way to my first period class, like I'm seeing the world with fresh eyes. But once the novelty has worn off, school isn't as great as I'd hoped. I'm so far behind in all my classes and I can't concentrate long enough to work out what topic we're up to or figure out how I'm gonna catch up everything I've missed. Several of my teachers give me concerned looks when I walk into the room and I see suspicion lurking behind their eyes when they tell me they're glad to have my back. It makes me nervous and edgy so I try extra hard to behave normally and prove I'm ok, but my brain doesn't seem to work properly. In third period English I spend fifteen minutes trying to remember how I used to hold my pen and in maths the numbers dance and swim so much I slam my test book shut in frustration.

By lunchtime I've had enough and make a dash for the library the minute the bell rings. I sit myself down at one of the rickety desks intending to do some homework, but I find myself unable to concentrate. My mind keeps jumping back to health class last year when Coach Jackson had mentioned something called depression. At the time I hadn't really paid attention (two girls sitting beside me were discussing Dallas Winston in hushed tones - _"__I heard he moved here from New York because he killed someone.__"_- and I was concentrating on remembering as much as possible so I could relay it to the gang later) but I remember Coach talking about sufferers experiencing feelings of hopelessness and emptiness. I wonder if that's what's wrong with Darry.

Giving up on my homework I head to the health section and peer at the shelves of books. After ten minutes of fruitless searching I make my way to the librarians desk. Mrs Grady is everything you'd expect a librarian to be - her glasses are permenantly perched on the end of her nose and her hair is tightly scraped back into a bun. I swallow thickly before clearing my throat to get her attention. She signs in annoyance before glancing up, her frown deepening as she take in my appearance. I give her my best smile.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a book on Depression." She regards me for a moment longer before reaching the (correct) conclusion that I'm asking her a serious question and not just trying to waste her time.

"Follow me." She replies coolly and comes out from around her desk before disappearing between the shelves. I follow meekly behind her, nearly bumping into her when she stops abruptly. "You should find everything you need here."

I glance up at the top of the shelf to see which section I'm in (it's definitely not health) as she starts to walk away. The sign reads _Twentieth Century History. _"Ma'am!" I call, making her turn back around and glower at me.

"Shhh!" She hisses, walking back over to me. "Do not raise your voice in the library young man!"

"Sorry," I apologise quickly, not meaning it. "But I think you've bought me to the wrong section. I don't need a history book."

"You asked about the Great Depression," She said slowly, like I was the one being stupid. "So I bought you to the history section."

"No I don't mean the Great Depression, I mean depression. You know," I lower my voice to a whisper although I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm embarrassed. "Like the illness."

Mrs Grady pulls herself upright and folds her arms primly. "I have no idea what you're talking about young man, there is no illness called depression." Her mouth twists when she says the word, like it's dirty or something. "Now unless you need anything else I suggest you leave the library and join the other children in the cafeteria."

"What do you mean there's no illness called- " I begin, feeling hurt by her dismissal. But her face starts to change from annoyed to angry so I quickly shut up, placing an apologetic smile on my face. "I mean, I'm sorry I must've been mistaken. I'll just go and check my notes again. Thank you very much for your help."

I quickly turn on my heel and disappear amongst the shelves before she can say anything else. I feel angry, although I'm not sure why. Maybe I'd misunderstood what coach was saying but I'd thought, hoped, maybe if I knew what was wrong with Darry, I'd know how to fix him.

Disappointment weighs heavy on my shoulders as I pick up my bag, but something pulls me back towards the medical section. Having no desire whatsoever to "join the other children" in the cafeteria, I browse half-heartedly through the books more to pass the time than in the hope of finding something that could help me. I'm running my finger along the row of spines when I see it, tucked in between two fat hardbacks. It's small, thin and unremarkable looking but the minute I skim through the contents page my heart jumps in excitement. The book focuses entirely on mental illness and there's a chapter entitled _"Melancholy and Depression." _I immediately flick to that page.

The chapter turns out to be no more than nineteen or twenty lines, but what I read changes everything.

"_Since the days of Hippocrates and Plato, human beings have reported suffering from feelings of extreme melancholy and sadness. While our ancestors believed these abnormal feelings to be caused by physical symptoms, recent clinical studies have found evidence to support the claim that they may actually be the result of mental illness. Psychologists have named this occurrence depression and several patients have been diagnosed with the disorder. While investigation into the disorder is still in the early stages, symptoms appear to include persistent feelings of sadness, irritability, difficulty in cognition and decreased energy. Doctors are still unclear about what causes the disorder, yet events such as bereavement, relationship breakdown and job loss have been suggested as contributing factors. Depression is not a widely recognised disorder and medical diagnosis can be hard to obtain as many doctors do not accept it's existence. At the moment there is no known cure, although symptoms are manageable through psychiatric drugs and therapy. However, if left untreated, sufferers are at risk of self harming or, in extreme cases, suicide."_

I clutch the book to my heart, breathing heavily as my head spins. The book had described Darry's symptoms almost to a tee but suicide? Darry wouldn't…would he? He couldn't…

Maybe that's why he told me he loved me this morning, because he knew it would be the last time I'd ever see him. Maybe he'd already done it and was lying at home, his heart cold and redundant in his chest. My hands grip the book so hard the cover rips. I have to get out of here and check. I could get home just in time to stop him, tell him that he has to keep living for me and I couldn't go on if I lost him too. I have to tell him.

The book falls to the floor with a thud as I grab my bag and race out the library.

"Hey!" I hear Mrs Grady shout in surprise as I tear past her desk but I don't stop. I can't stop, not when Darry could be…

Tears sting my eyes as I race down the corridors, the soles of my sneakers slapping the floor to the same rhythm as my hammering heart. I burst out the school gates and let my feet guide me home.

_Don't let me be too late, please god, don't let me be too late…_

_

* * *

_

And I'm gonna end it there! God I'm mean! I haven't updated in a while so I thought I'd post an extra long chapter to make up for it but I just thought I'd warn everybody, I've got exams coming up soon, so updates will probably be slower.

_What did you all think of that chapter? I completely made up the passage from the book so sorry if it sucked, I don't know much about depression in the 60s unfortunately. How are you feeling about Darry in this chapter? I know I'm pretty much mutilating his character, but it's necessary for the next part of the fic. _

_Um yeah, let me know what you thought and if you've got any ideas or suggestions I'd love to hear them! And thanks for reading!_


	17. Chapter 17

By the time I make it home I'm just about ready to pass out. My legs burn with each step I take and a white hot pain surges through my chest whenever I draw a breath. Frantic images rush through my brain, each more terrifying than the last, until I'm so blinded by panic I can hardly see straight.

_An empty bottle of pills…cold, dead eyes staring out of a pasty face…a bloody razor blade...blue tinted lips…a crumpled piece of paper clutched in a lifeless wrist…a pair of feet dangling from the rafters…_

I volt over our fence and begin to tear across the front yard, desperately trying to remember how to put someone in the recovery position just in case. I'm concentrating so hard I don't notice Tim Shepard striding across the yard until it's too late. I slam straight into him, unable to stop myself in time. I fall down hard on my butt and Tim staggers backwards, muttering curses to conceal his shock.

"Tim?" I stammer in confusion, peering up at him silhouetted against the weak winter sunshine.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He shouts, answering my question just as effectively as if he'd simply said yes. "What the hell are you doing? Tearing in here like you've got the fuzz on ya tail or something!" He pauses for a moment and looks at me closely. "You haven't have you?"

"No." I manage, still sitting spread-eagled in the dirt trying to catch my breath and swallow my fear. If Tim's here, that means Darry's ok right?

Tim shakes his head before reaching down and offering his hand. I grab onto it gratefully and let him yank me to my feet.

"So, what you doing here kid?" He asks, suddenly looking shifty now that we're standing eye to eye.

"I live here." I say craftily, ready to play Tim at his own game. If Tim's been here I know that Darry hasn't done anything stupid, because Tim might be a lot of things but he wouldn't just stand by and let Darry kill himself. But the guilty glint in Tim's eyes is raising different kinds of alarm bells in my head. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Oh, uh…I just popped round to see your brother." He replies, looking about as close to uncomfortable as Tim Shepard can get. "Just, ya know, for a visit."

I roll my eyes at his feeble excuse. What kinda idiot did he take me for? Tim Shepard didn't make social calls and everybody knew it.

"Is he drunk?" I ask flatly, not in the mood for bullshit. I wasn't even scared, which I should've been, talking to Tim Shepard that way. I just was too tired and too angry and too goddamn sick of everything to even care.

Tim refuses to meet my eyes and I get my answer. I expect myself to get angry, but I don't. Now that the panic and fear had gone, there was nothing left. I just felt empty. "Get out of my yard Tim."

The very fact that he doesn't knock me straight back onto my ass makes me think that Tim's had a few drinks himself. I start to walk past him but he reaches out and snags my arm.

"Kid…you're brother's crying in there." I don't know what he expects me to say so I just stare back at him. He shrugs, looking unnerved by my indifference. "Never thought I'd see the day Darrel Curtis cried is all." He adds, in way of explanation.

I shake my arm free from his hold and brush past him. "You get used to it." I say quietly. I feel his stare burning into my back and know he's surprised by my reaction.

"Kid!" He calls a second time and I turn, even though I don't want too. I get the feeling he's waiting for me to do or say something, to assure him that everything's ok and that he has nothing to feel bad about. But I'm not going to let him off that easily, not when my life's falling to pieces and there's no one left to help me put it back together. He must've seen the pissed off look on my face because he quickly softens his tone. "I mean Ponyboy. That's you're name ain't it, Ponyboy?"

I don't even bother to reply. I start to turn back towards the house, tired of the conversation and wanting to check on Darry.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me you little shit!" Tim yells suddenly and I freeze. I might be pissed off and tired, but I wasn't stupid. I think I'd pushed Tim about as far as he was willing to go. I slowly raise my eyes to Tim's face, ready to face his anger, but when I meet his eyes all I see my own desperation reflected back at me. "He would've found another way to get it Ponyboy, you know that don't you? If I hadn't given him the booze, he would've gotten it someplace else."

"What do you want me to say Tim?" I ask, voice almost a whisper. "I can't tell you it's going to be ok, because it isn't. And I can't say I don't blame you, because I do. If you hadn't…" I stop myself mid-sentence and look away from Tim, swallowing hard. I don't really blame him, just like I don't blame Darry's boss for firing him, or Two-Bit for not checking I was ok after I left his house and disappeared for six days, or my teachers and classmates for watching me deteriorate but doing nothing to help. That blame isn't their burden to bear, but it isn't mine either…

I can feel myself starting to get upset, all the feelings and emotions from months of heartache pushing up against the mental damn I've created, so I quickly end the conversation. "I don't know what you want from me Tim. There's nothing left to say."

For a second Tim looks like I've slapped him, but he quickly ducks his head, busying himself by dipping his hand into his pocket. He pulls his wallet out and flips it open. I watch closely as he counts out three folded notes. "Look, take this ok? Take it and buy yourself something."

I don't want to take his money out of principal, my pride is pretty much all I've got left and I feel like Tim's paying me off, thinking that a few measly dollars can make everything better and ease his own conscience. But then my mind jumps to the empty kitchen cupboards, the stack of overdue bills hidden under the couch, the crippling hunger pangs that hurt so much they take my breathe away and I know I don't have a choice. I reach out and take the money Tim's holding out. Shame and embarrassment bubbles in my stomach and I can't meet his eye.

Tim clears his throat once I've got the money clutched in my fist. "Well, I'm glad we've got that sorted." He says and I can tell he's pleased with himself. There's a pause and I wonder if he's waiting for me to thank him, expecting me to be grateful. I stare doggedly at my beaten up sneakers, gripping the money so hard it screws itself up into a tight, ugly ball in my fist.

Darry once told me that money and violence were the only currency Tim Shepard could understand so I guess I should be thankful I'm nursing three dollar bills instead of a black eye but I still feel like shit, no matter how much I try and convince myself otherwise. I can feel the money burning a hole in my palm, a simmering, lingering reminder of who I've become and what I've been reduced to in order to survive. Any scrap of dignity I'd managed to preserve disappeared the second that money touched my fingertips. I feel myself start to shake.

Tim doesn't stick around now that he's cleared his conscience and paid off his debt. I feel his presence leave and only look up once I'm sure he's gone. I slowly unclench my fist and smooth the bills out against my leg. He's given me twenty-five dollars. I shake my head before folding them up neatly and slipping them into my pocket. Darry must've really shaken Tim up for him to give me that much as Tim wasn't one to part with money easily. I take a deep breathe and brace myself before walking into the house, determinedly telling myself I can cope with whatever lies in wait behind the front door.

* * *

Cigarette smoke lingers in the air, giving the room a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. I catch sight of the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and figure all those stubs must belong to Tim, unless Darry's taken up smoking as well as drinking. Nothing would surprise me anymore. I start to walk towards the window, intending to open it and get some fresh air in here before I start clearing things up, when I catch sight of Darry on the couch. He's sitting up, which is a miracle in itself and, although his eyes still look red and puffy, he's no longer crying. I relax a little bit, glad I don't have to deal with his tears. I still find it disconcerting to have Darry sobbing into my hair, although I've gotten pretty good at hiding it.

I turn away from the window and head over to the couch, tentatively sitting down beside him. I perch myself on the edge of the couch, ready to leap away if need be, not yet sure what mood he's in.

"Darry?" I whisper gently, reaching out to rest my hand on his arm. "Are you ok?" For a long minute he doesn't answer and I watch him apprehensively, not sure whether or not I should make the next move.

"No, I'm not ok. Nothing is ok Ponyboy." He replies tersely and I feel like I'm pissing him off just by being there. I move away from him slightly, just in case he lashes out. Darry has a short temper at the best of time, but I've learnt from experience that when he's drunk his restraint and patience is even quicker to evaporate. My feet bump against empty beer bottles as I wriggle sideways across the couch but if Darry notices he doesn't comment. Once I feel I'm a safe enough distance away I look up at him again, hoping he'll provide me with some clue of what I'm supposed to do next.

_Should I just leave him alone to wallow or try and cheer him up? Should I tell him about my day at school (leaving out the depression part obviously) or would that just make him mad that I skipped? Should I try and get him to eat something or get him another beer to ease his hangover? _But his hunched shoulders and slumped body don't offer any answers so I just sit there, biting my nails and waiting.

Eventually Darry looks over at me and for the first time in a long, long while I look into his eyes and see my brother. This time there's no alcohol induced gloss to hide him, or his pain. "Don't look at me like that Pone. Just…don't look at me. I don't want you to see me like this." He whispers sadly and I ache to make it all better for him, to be enough for him to want to get better. Why wasn't I enough for him?

"I was worried that something had happened to you. I thought…" I trail off, unable to say the word suicide. Darry understands though, because I see his eyes widen. "I was so scared." I finish pathetically, just needing someone to know.

Darry reaches for me then and I dive onto him, pressing myself again his side and hugging him with all my might. I feel his arms wrap around me, solid and unbreakable, as he holds me tightly against him. "Oh Pone, I'm so sorry. I'd never…I mean I couldn't…I wouldn't…" I can feel Darry's body shuddering with pent up emotion. I bury my face in his shirt and let tears slip from my eyes. "I could never, ever do that, ever! Jesus, I'm so, so sorry! God you poor kid…"

"I just want things to go back to how they used to be." I sob into his shirt, clinging to him like I hadn't done since mom and dad died. "I want you to get better and Soda to come home and for everything to be ok again."

"I know you do." Darry placates, rubbing my back comfortingly. "I want that too, more than anything. But you know that that can't happen right? There's too much water under the bridge…too much as happened. And Soda…" Darry stops abruptly, swallowing hard. He still can't bring himself to let Soda go, just like I can't. He always there just out of sight, standing on the outskirts of every conversation, his presence in our lives as dangerous as a mirage in a desert. Cruel and taunting, he dissolves into nothing just as you reach out, leaving you with nothing more than a handful of air and a gaping reminder of what you've lost. Darry clears his throat and continues, leaving his sentence unfinished, just like Soda's life. "Nothing can go back to the way it was, you understand that don't you?"

That's not what I want to hear at all. There's always hope. There has to be hope, else what else is there to live for? Without hope, there's nothing. Darry's taken a lot of things from me these last few months, and I've let him because he's my brother and I love him more than anything, but I won't let him take my hope. I can't…it's the only thing keeping me going. Hope that Soda will come back, that Darry will stop drinking and get a new job. Hope that I can go to college, that one day I'll be free from this place and allowed to just be myself. Even when I come home to find Darry passed out on the couch and Soda still gone and I feel that same hope turn sour in my heart, I still need it there else…

…else I'll become like Darry.

Things can go back to normal, they have to. I can't go on living like this for much longer, let alone forever. I push angrily away from Darry and stand up, not ready yet to accept what he's telling me. Anger jumps up my throat and fizzes around my mouth, ready to defend against the threat of reality his words have created.

"You don't just stop living because you lose someone Darry." I say spitefully, throwing his own words back in his face. I feel a sick sort of satisfaction as his face twists in recognition, remembering the offhand way he'd barked those words at me when my grief over Johnny and Dally hadn't disappeared as quickly as he thought it should. It feels good to hurt him, to get back at him for all the times he's hurt me these last few months. "I thought you knew that by now."

He looks shocked for a moment before anger washes over his features, turning them hard and unforgiving in the dim light. He jumps to his feet and we stand facing one another, like two dogs pitted against each other, so tightly wound they'll do anything to release the strangling, stifling anger. But once we're staring each other down, we can't move. It's like we both know we're all the other has left and neither one of us can bare to risk losing them. We've lost too much already.

Eventually Darry pushes past me into the kitchen and I hear the sound of him rummaging around in a cupboard. I wait until I hear the confirmatory sound of a bottle being opened before walking out the front door to go and spend Tim's money.

_

* * *

_

Hi everybody! I'm back in black (well…not really, but you know…it rhymes and stuff…). Thanks for the lovely reviews, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! You guys rock!

_This chapter was a little bit random and pretty pointless, but I felt like the story needed it for some reason. A few of you asked in your reviews why Two-Bit hadn't been around to check on Ponyboy and, in all honestly, the main reason is that I just forgot to write him in! But I've been thinking about it and I thought that this situation is a little bit like when Ponyboy was sick at the end of the novel and Two-Bit didn't tell anyone. I love Two-Bit and think he's completely awesome, but he's not a hero if that makes sense. He's not good at coping or dealing with serious situations. So that could also be one of the reasons he didn't call, it's easier for him to bury his head in the sand than face reality. _

_Ms. Curtis - Thanks, I need all the luck I can get I reckon! :D_

_PabloDivaRidesAgain_ - _Thanks for your review, it was lovely! You really picked up on what I'm trying to get across with this story, which makes me happy!_

_I hop everyone enjoys this chapter, let me know what you thought in a review and I'll update as soon as I can (stupid exams!). _


	18. Chapter 18

I didn't spend Tim's money in the end. Instead I went and sat in the lot, angrily skipping stones across the frozen ground until my arm ached. A small part of me was hoping Darry would come looking for me, that he'd be the one to make the first move and make things right for once. The rest of me was stubbornly sulking, hating Darry, hating Tim, hating Buck, hating Tulsa, hating Vietnam, hating the world. I was sick of being the adult and having to do the right thing all the time, so I was gonna sit there and sulk like the thirteen year old I wasn't allowed to be.

By the time it started to get dark I'd pretty much tired of pouting. For a while I considered crying, but that wasn't going to get me anywhere either so I got shakily to my feet. It was pretty obvious Darry wasn't coming to get me so I started to walk home, preparing to eat humble pie and apologise. It was stupid to run out like that anyway, especially when I had nowhere to run to.

The hard ground was slippy under my feet and I was suddenly aware of how cold it was, how cold _I_ was. The denim of my jeans was frozen stiff and the tips of my fingers had turned a dull blue colour. As I slid and skittered over the ice my head swam and lurched sickeningly, like the world was tilting around me. I tried to remember when I last ate, but it had been so long I couldn't remember. Eventually I gave up and focused instead on trying to make it home without falling over, because I somehow knew that once I hit the floor I wouldn't be able to get up again.

It reminded me of a story my mom had read to me when I was younger, _The Little Matchstick Girl _I think it was called. I couldn't remember exactly what happened, except the girl died at the end, on the street in the cold and she went to Heaven and felt warm for the first time in her life. It had made me sad because she was such a sweet, happy girl and she'd tried so hard, but in the end real life just beat her down. Struggling along that cold, dark, deserted street, I was starting to think me and her had a lot of things in common. At least she had her matches though, which she could sell for a little bit of money and light to keep her warm. I didn't even have that. All I had was Darry, who was sinking faster than I was, and Soda, who I couldn't even think about without my heart aching. I bit down hard on my lip to distract myself and tried to focus on the hunger, because at least that was easy to understand.

I'd read in a book once that the body can last up to sixty days without food, providing it doesn't catch any infections and is reasonably healthy to begin with. For the first three days it lives off stores of glucose, after that's all gone it uses up body fat and when there's none of that left, the body starts to eat it's internal organs, literally eating itself alive. Once I'd remember that chunk of text and the gruesome picture that accompanied it, I couldn't get it out of my head. I wondered if the pain in my stomach was my body already starting to eat itself. The thought made me feel sick with panic and I quickly veered off towards town, desperate to get some food. I made it halfway to the store before my legs gave out from under me and I sank down in the middle of the sidewalk, unable to try anymore. I don't know how long I sat there with my head down, but when I finally got the strength to look back up, there was a small heap of coins piled in front of me.

For a minute I was too shocked to move (_people think I__'__m begging! Do I really look that bad__…__that desperate__…__that pathetic?_) but then I quickly scooped up the money and bolted before anyone could recognise me. The pieces of small change only added up to a few dollars, but it was enough to buy a loaf of bread and a small jar of peanut butter. I felt numb as I handed over the money at the counter and I couldn't bring myself meet the shopkeeper's eye, as if he'd figure out where the money came from just by looking at me. I left the store clutching my prize tightly to my chest, it's presence offering more comfort and happiness than the cutest, cuddliest teddy bear ever could.

The house was cold, dark and silent when I finally made it back, and Darry was nowhere in sight. I checked the kitchen clock and realised he must've already left for work. As much as it would've been nice to know he'd been sitting at home waiting for me, wringing his hands and planning his apology, I was actually pretty glad he wasn't there. I wasn't sure I could've look him in the eye, knowing what I'd just done. We'd always been taught, first by my father then by Darry after dad had died, to never except charity, especially when it came from strangers who knew nothing about us except we didn't have as much as they did. We were always told we were better than that. Well I wasn't; not anymore.

Tim's money was still making a bulge in my pocket, reminding me of my earlier shame and making everything worse. I yanked it out and hurled it across the kitchen, watching as it bounced off the wall and skidded to a stop in the corner. I left it there and turned away, shifting my attention to the loaf of bread. I ripped it open and folded a slice into my mouth, chewing manically so I could swallow as quickly as possible and feel something solid in my stomach. That was all I really wanted, to feel full. I got through three more slices before I remembered the peanut butter. I spooned some into my mouth before starting on the fourth slice of bread. I made myself stop once I'd eaten half the loaf, not wanting to make myself sick. After that, there was nothing else to do except crawl into bed.

I woke up the next morning to find they'd shut off our electricity. Although it was a shock when I went to turn on the television and nothing happened, I couldn't say I hadn't been expecting it. It seemed like everyday a new, threatening letter thudded onto our doormat and, as they'd cut off the telephone a couple of weeks before, I'd realised it would only be a matter of time. I ate the rest of the bread and peanut butter, hoping to full the gulf of panic that had gradually appeared as I'd run around the house, desperately flicking switches. But no matter how much I ate, I still felt empty. In the end I went back to bed and hid under the blankets, making a safe, warm haven for myself until I was ready to deal with reality again.

It was late afternoon when I remembered about Tim's money. Maybe if I sent it to the electricity company they'd switch the power back on for a little while, which would give me a little more time to figure out some way to pay our bills. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen, but the moneywasn't where I left it last night. I didn't even bother searching for it, I knew Darry'd found it, which meant it would already have paid for a bottle of whisky and a six pack of Budweiser. I cursed myself for being so stupid and immediately set out to try and get a job, hoping I could make up the money I'd just lost. I walked the streets of Tulsa until I felt like my feet were gonna drop off. People either laughed in my face or told me to come back when I was older. No one wanted to hire a thirteen year old kid, let alone a thirteen year old greaser kid with holes in his jeans and desperation in his eyes. I went home cold, angry and desperate.

The next day I started stealing. I'd grown up watching Two-Bit, Dally, Steve and sometimes even Soda help themselves to candy bars and packs of cigarettes while the shopkeeper's back was turned so I knew exactly what to do. I was good at it too, making sure I never took more than a couple of items at a time and never hit the same shop twice. I'd spend the rest of the day scouting the streets for empty bottles that I could exchange for a penny at Mrs. Briggs' shop. I took Darry's empty bottles there too, pretending I'd found them in a dumpster or under the bridge where the homeless people lived. Mrs. Briggs thought I was collecting money to feed the orphan babies in Africa and sometimes gave me a nickel instead of a penny, just to "do her bit for the cause". Her kindness would made my face burn with shame because often as not I'd have a pack of bread rolls stuffed under my jumper or a can of tuna hidden in my coat pocket.

Lugging the bottles from our house to the shop was a long and tedious process as I could only carry four at a time. The cold weather made it all the more difficult as my fingers stung and ice made the pavement slippery. The pennies and nickels I got in exchange only added up to a few dollars a week, but it was enough to buy small amounts of food so I kept on with it. If Darry noticed the food that suddenly appeared in our empty cupboards he didn't question where it came from and I didn't tell him. We didn't really talk much anymore…I think we were both scared to open our mouths in case everything we couldn't say came rushing out before we could stop it. My brain buzzed with pent up emotion, but more than anything I longed for a normal "Hey kiddo, how was your day" conversation.

* * *

A week later I wake up and find they've shut off the heat. There's nothing I can do about it, no matter how hard I kick the boiler or rattle the pipes. I go to school that day, just to avoid facing the reality of living in a house without electricity or heat. I sit through my lessons, letting the teachers' monotone voices comfort me and the heat blaring from the radiators warm me up. I still feel cold inside though, like a chill has seeped through my body and settled deep in my soul. I catch sight of Two-Bit at lunch. He's sitting in a classroom, probably serving detention, and his eyes go wide when he sees me. He raises his hand to the window and presses it flat against the glass, like he's reaching for me but there's an invisible barrier holding him back.

The irony of it all jabs cruelly at my heart as I make my way to the grocery store to steal some lunch for myself and by the time I get there I can feel hot tears running down my chilled cheeks. I miss Two-Bit almost as bad as I miss Soda, but I'm a liar and a cheat and a thief now and I can't drag Two-Bit down with me. He's the only one of us left.

I try to quit crying once I'm in the store, but the sobs are coming from deep down inside me and they won't stop. I clamp my sleeve over my mouth to try and stifle the noise, but it's too late. The Shopkeeper's voice booms across the store just as I'm slipping a Hershey bar into my coat pocket.

"Hey, what are you doing over there?!" He yells, taking a menacing step out from behind the counter. I jump and throw down the candy bar like it burnt me. I stare back at him like a rabbit caught in headlights, my thieving intensions obvious from the guilt on my face. The guy's face darkens and I see him reach for something under the counter. "You were gonna steal that weren't you, you little thief!"

"No…no I wasn't…" I stammer, taking a shaky step backwards. I don't know what he's got hidden under that counter but I'm not eager to stick around and find out. "I was just…looking! I swear… I was just looking at it." It's a lame excuse and the shopkeeper doesn't buy it for a second.

"Like hell ya were! Get the hell outta my store you little thug, before I shoot ya with my gun. I'll do it…don't think I won't! I'm sick of you kids running around like hooligans, stealing my business and scaring off my customers! Get the hell out before I shoot you! Go on, _una mierda_!" I don't need to be told again and bolt from the shop. I mean to get as far away from the place as possible, but I'm so shocked and upset I don't watch where I'm going end up tripping over a paving stone right outside the store.

It's when I'm lying sprawled out on the sidewalk that I catch side of the dumpsters. There's three of them, all lined up neatly down the alleyway that runs along side the store. I pick myself up and dart into the alley, jerking the lid back from the first dumpster and plunging my hand in before I can change my mind. The garbage feels moist and slippery beneath my fingers and I have to hold my breath against the stink but I don't care. I'm so focused on my task that I don't notice the side door opening until it's too late.

"Jesus kid…what are you doing now?" The voice is old, raspy and accented, and I immediately recognise it as the shopkeepers. I freeze, one hand still in the dumpster, and slowly turn my head towards him. He doesn't look angry anymore, but I still don't trust him.

"Please Mister," I whisper, carefully removing my arm and backing up a few steps. I raise my hands up in surrender, like the bad guys do in cop movies and turn to face him. "Please don't shoot me. I'm just hungry. I'm so so hungry!"

Then to my absolute horror, I start to cry.

"Oh no, kid…come on don't get all upset. Of course I'm not gonna shoot ya. I was only pulling your leg. Hell, if I shot every kid that pinched from me I'd been locked up years ago. Is that why you were stealing? 'Coz you're hungry? Huh? _Tiene hambre?_"

I nod miserably, still keeping my arms raised just in case. The guy shakes his head and runs his hand over his stubbly chin, like he's trying to decide what to do with me. "Ok, I tell ya what, I'll make you a deal. I'll let you come inside for a bit and we'll get you fed and cleaned up, then you promise never to steal from my store ever again ok? How's that sound? Have we got a deal?"

"Ok." I agree shakily, cautiously lowering my arms to shake the guy's outstretched hand. To be honest I probably would've agreed to anything just to keep this guy on my side. The man shakes my hand firmly then motions for me to follow him inside. I only hesitate for a moment before trailing after him, because there's nothing else I can do.

I step through the backdoor and find myself in a small back room with a stove, a rickety old table and an electric heater. I head straight for the heater and immediately kneel down in front of it, holding my freezing hands up to the glowing bars.

"_Cuidadoso chico_!" The man says urgently, grabbing my upper arm and pulling me away from the heater. I stagger awkwardly to my feet, looking up at him in confusion. I have absolutely no idea what he's just said, but I hope I haven't made him mad again… "Don't get so close to the heater, you'll burn yourself! Come and sit over here."

He leads me over to a kitchen chair I hadn't even noticed before and sits me down. "Thank you," I manage to stammer, still feeling confused and disorientated. I realise my knees are stinging and reach down absentmindedly to rub them. When I pull my hand away it's sticky with blood.

"_De nada_." The man says under his breath, bending down to look at me knees himself. He shakes his head before straightening up. "Stay here _chico_, I'll be back in a minute. Don't touch anything, _bueno_?"

I nod, watching him apprehensively as he leaves. I hope he hasn't gone to call the fuzz. For a minute I consider running away, but the room is so warm and comforting I can't make my legs move. After a minute I lean my hand down on the table and let my eyes slide shut, just to rest them for a minute. _Just for a minute…_

* * *

_Wow, it's been a while hasn't it? Sorry about the wait, it's been a hectic couple of months for me what with exams, exam results, turning eighteen and starting a new job. All my writing just took a back seat for a while I'm afraid, but I'm back on track now! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know it's depressing what Pony's going through but he's pretty much hit rock bottom now so things are going to improve for him soon - I promise! Let me know your thoughts, ideas and opinions in a review!_

_Translations:_

_Una mierda - Piss off_

_Tiene hambre? - Are you hungry?_

_Cuidadoso chico! - Careful boy!_

_De Nada - It's nothing_


End file.
